PROSE POETRY
JAY WATERS
qUARTER
From opposite directions, they slowly ease into a tangle of arms and hair, creating an eddy in the river of tourists meandering from Canal. There’s nothing French here, save for the fries bathed in ancient oils, and the kisses, such as the one happening right now in front of everyone on Bourbon, the kissers oblivious to the crush of walkers and gawkers jealously pushing by. The passersby fill in the blanks with their version of whatever boy-meets-girl story explains this public tangle of arms and lips and tongues; the cynics dismiss it as a tale of a per diem and an out-of-town convention, the romantics see love lost and found while the bartenders see four rounds of hand grenades and the Midwestern Lutherans, always judging, write a Sunday school story of Sodom meeting Gomorrah. LSU fraternity virgins pass by, envious of the luck of some guys, as the Jackson bachelorettes ache after one last fling to keep secret till it’s needed to be told. Mary (he thinks) and Robert (she overheard) are oblivious to them all and decide, as they untangle, to write no story at all. He turns back towards Canal, pulling just a moment at her hand and then letting it fall, as she decides to push further down Bourbon, towards Ursuline, where the convent used to be.
From opposite directions, they slowly ease into a tangle of arms and hair, creating an eddy in the river of tourists meandering from Canal. There’s nothing French here, save for the fries bathed in ancient oils, and the kisses, such as the one happening right now in front of everyone on Bourbon, the kissers oblivious to the crush of walkers and gawkers jealously pushing by. The passersby fill in the blanks with their version of whatever boy-meets-girl story explains this public tangle of arms and lips and tongues; the cynics dismiss it as a tale of a per diem and an out-of-town convention, the romantics see love lost and found while the bartenders see four rounds of hand grenades and the Midwestern Lutherans, always judging, write a Sunday school story of Sodom meeting Gomorrah. LSU fraternity virgins pass by, envious of the luck of some guys, as the Jackson bachelorettes ache after one last fling to keep secret till it’s needed to be told. Mary (he thinks) and Robert (she overheard) are oblivious to them all and decide, as they untangle, to write no story at all. He turns back towards Canal, pulling just a moment at her hand and then letting it fall, as she decides to push further down Bourbon, towards Ursuline, where the convent used to be.
Jay Waters is a new writer and photographer from McCalla, Alabama. As it has turned out, he writes more often than not on courage - real, perceived and absent.