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2002-02-27 - 8:13 p.m.

Oh, by the way, here's a poem I wrote. It's about my parents. My mom grew up in the swamps eating squirrels and whatever else they could catch themselves. When my dad started courting her, they would go out at night with her brothers and sister giggin' frogs.

frog giggin'
in the moonlight
slick water
over the tar oil road
plop and slosh
in the shadows
they shrug in the bag
beep and creep and creak
crowded and black and bump
in the dark
the heavy limbs
brush the tall grass
and there are
and when you trip
and drop
the frogs slop



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