I was at a quaint little island
we locals called Port A.
And proudly so.

Port Aransas was a small fishing village
in the nineties.
Everyone had fishing poles,
even the local doctors.
They had their own time system too.
Work, buildings,
could be put on hold
as long as there was a redfish run.
A relaxed lifestyle,
until outsiders invaded it.

The library was small
and as quaint.
One day, in the middle of work hours,
the head librarian stood
holding a big ripe red peach.
“I love peaches,” she told us,
biting into it.
The juice ran down her mouth.
She remained oblivious to it,
enjoying the juicy wetness
while we stood salivating.

That memory stays with me.

— Trudi Hsu, with Claude