When the yearning for a weekend trip to New Orleans appeared, much like the late night craving for a bag of potato chips, it took no persuasion to convince Poet to meet me there.
“Name the day and I shall arrive happily,” he declared when the words had barely been released from my lips. “I am, my dear lady, at your beck and call.”
And so, true to his word, the weekend dates I suggested were deemed “perfect” and the plans were put into motion.
“I have a notion,” I said to Poet, “that I shall take the train to New Orleans.” Read More»