Wednesday, June 25, 2025

hoosier sweet tea

When I first got here,
my voice seemed distinctive,
my word choice strange,
my pronunciation off.
Now, my voice has softened—
like cherry-lightning clouds
before another hot, rainy storm.
I hear it when I say:

“How are you, honey?
I missed you last night,”
to the outdoor cats I feed
but don’t touch.

And now—
suddenly—I say y’all.
And yesterday, I almost said
reckon
  and fixin’,
as in: You reckon he’s fixin’ to eat?
Which means,
Do you think he’s getting ready to eat?

Somehow,
I’m a little too Yankee for the South,
a bit too Southern for the North.
Please—
save a place for me.

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