Olivia - Snowball

In New Orleans, there is no such thing as “Beating the Heat.”
Because we all know that it is a pointless battle
That will only leave us straddled
Somewhere between drowning
From the humidity that collects in our lungs with each breath
Or from the salty droplets that leak in through the corner of our dry mouths.

Living here means being broiled and braised for three-quarters of the year,
Set out on the cooling rack for the rest,
Only so that the entire cycle can start again.

This is where breakfast, lunch, and dinner are synonymous with Plum St., Hansen’s, and Sal’s.
Because we all know that a good snowball is the only remedy that can peel our melted bodies off the
sidewalk and put us back into a solid state.

And yet life carries on
In the midst of this oppressive warmth.
Notes of the Blues are still served up into the air.
Steaming spices are still playing flavors on tongues.

Because this is the City that Never Sleeps, right?
Ok, maybe not. But the Big Easy can do it too.
And so can The Crescent City, The Birthplace of Jazz, The Home of Mardi Gras.
The City that Care Forgot.

And the moment that a cool breeze finally catches in the air,
Every New Orleanian will say,
“Man, I’d pick being hot over being cold any day.”

Olivia - age 16.75