By Michelle Pichon

I remember you
like the only shooting star
I ever saw
streaming across the eternal Texas sky
vibrant and magical
Your fingers long and rough
Camel Turkish blend
burning at the tips
chilled Budweiser
in a can
sweet on your breath
That’s how I see you
Legs like a blue heron
crossed at the knee
sitting in the swollen air
the backyard that once was
nothing but bayou
under the shade of our
family tree
telling me about
birds and baseball
You ask me
if I still play the piano
and I wish I did
because that would give me
something to say
I could learn some
big band jazz
and play for you
like the Duke
But I quit playing the piano
like everything else
I don’t like it anymore
I say
eyes on the thirsty ground
my voice like
caterpillars chewing on leaves
 And now
I imagine you’d say
The piano is like baseball
Shah, you got to saboulet
or don’t do it at all

* saboulet is a Louisiana Creole baseball term meaning hit the ball as hard as possible

Copyright © Michelle Pichon. All rights reserved.

Michelle Pichon is a Louisiana Creole with roots in Slidell and Isle Brevelle, Louisiana. Teaching English at Northwestern State University is her bread and butter but poetry is her chocolate cake and Sauvignon Blanc at the end of the day. She has previously been published in Country Roads, Xavier Review, and Louisiana English Journal. She is co-founder of Down River Art Gang (DRAG) where she and her friends put on killer multi-cultural, multi-genre art shows and other events. 

You can follow Michelle on Tumblr at

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