My Creole Mistress

Let me tell you a tale, whose details will leave you wetter than the cast of Finding Nemo;

it’s a true to life saga about my love affair with this South Louisiana Creole.

There was nothing epic in the way we met, just a plain old January Monday;

the Super Bowl was the day before, the Saints weren’t there, see, just another day.

I grew up with her like the girl next door and never knew she’d one day own my heart;

but it was the strange phenomenon of her culture that was working Voodoo from the start.

Now if you’ve ever met one of these Creole queens, you know not to ever call them a mutt;

but how else do you describe a dash of this and that with a splash of such and such?

Yeah, she was one of them varieties that you’d have to leave the country to find suitable competition for;

she handled her business and partied all night, her last call if she had one, was sometime around four.

The language she spoke was an interesting dialect, some from other nations, others homegrown;

but the swagger she carried, the style she had, they were non-mistakably her own.

I left her some time ago with no regrets, feeling like her trouble would lead to bad days;

it took me some time but I’m wiser now, took for me to almost lose her to see the error of my ways.

She went in that ward on August 29th and I didn’t get the chance to see her until November;

I almost cried when I saw what hit her, one the saddest days I’ll ever remember.

I thought I did it the right way, cause it seemed she’d never come back to be how I knew her;

you shoulda seen the fight in this girl, I doubt anything in the world would ever subdue her.

She came to me in a dream, stripped, bald, barren, battered, and bruised;

she didn’t want me to look at her but I couldn’t stop staring at her awkward new tattoos.

Some ugly little things with Xs and Os, acronyms, numbers, words, and such;

it was like some other language, to me the shit was all Dutch.

It was in this dream that she spoke to me and said “I’m proud of everything you’ve done so far;

take this time to get yourself together, I’m right in your heart, so I’ll be wherever you are.

You left me for her, and I don’t care, she’ll never do to or for you all of the wondrous things I can;

so take what she offers, learn from her, because even when you left you never stopped being my man.

And I tried to make it work, but the one I was with had common ways I’ve long despised;

funny what I needed the most was that same girl from way back who was commonly specialized.

It was the money she flashed, the promises she made, that had me runnin to her like a groupie;

in the end she cheated herself, because she didn’t see the potential of letting me do “me.”

My love didn’t shelter my opinion or ask me to conform because she among the most exotic in the states; even if I gave you her cookbook, I doubt you’d be able to make the same plates.



You see she makes groceries, while you merely go to the store to buy,



She greets with “heeeey baby,” and you only say “hi.”



She got pahrans and nan-nans, maw-maws, paw-paws, and God-siblings,



You got a t-jones and grandparents, nothing novel in the way that rings.



She wants to know who you are, while what you are is what makes you tick,



And that’s when I decided to seek her aid cause you truly make me sick.



Houston you’ll forever have a piece of me cause I made sure during our time together to get deep inside of you;

but happiness for me is what I’ve always known, you’ll forever be a long-distance boo.

The last time I saw her ended much in the same way that it normally does, with her wearing the sheets as a dress;

she picked up her head and was pretty as ever despite her hair looking a mess.

“So you going back to that girl again, after another wild romp, I’m still just the weekend fuck;”

I wanted to keep my intentions a surprise cause wit her forever aint long enough.

I walked to where she lay, pulled her close to me, and started the beginning of the rest of my life;

“I’m tired of coming home to my Creole mistress, what say I make you my Creole wife?

New Orleans, my love, I’m sorry I left you, all that remains on my end is a few loose ends to tie;

some things I gotta wrap up and finish out there before I can tell her goodbye.

I’m no longer doing what’s expected of me, I’m only interested in what I think I should;”

and as I closed the door behind me I whispered “next time I come home, it’ll be for good.”