A story poem that explores the relationship between the elixir of life…and what you’re willing to pay for it.
There are lots of good fried chicken joints in the world, and I’ll gladly chow down at any of the million places you can go…but there’s just no fried chicken like my mama’s…
If you think my mother’s cornbread is good, you should try her fried chicken!
If the words “fried green tomatoes” transport you to the Whistle Stop Cafe, that’s just fine. If those same words also transport you to your grandma’s kitchen for a long-ago, late-summer Sunday supper, that’s even better!
Mardi Gras, King Cake…Crawlin’ King Snake? Now where did that come from? Laissez les bon temps rouler!