"Men of Crossed Races / Call each other Sugar and Babe / [...] / We know better how / To dance together now."

Into the South of Louisiana.

Colors Changing Color, Part 3

Amidst all of the above, 
Men of crossed Races
Call each other “Sugar” and “Babe” while they work,
Everyday warmth of natives living beyond tradition.

We’d just off the boat from our Hitch off-shore, 
Driving up from Grand Isle beside Rigs and Cane 
And Boats that kept their shine,
When Jack Groves, my first Driller, from
Lake Charles in the 1930s and then from Broussard,
Said: “You know, Don, children
And grand-parents of these Cajun people—
And I’m a Coon-Ass, too, Coon-Ass black and blue, 
No matter where I am—they can hardly talk to each other.
They speak different languages.”
What was its own fertility— Evangeline to Amédé Ardoin
To Iry LeJeune to Hank Williams, 
And Balfa and Savoy and Michot Families and Zydeco too—
Turns like the lurid glare 
Of water under oil
And yet keeps pushing through
With each “Sugar”, “Babe”, “Bro”, "Sister", and "Boo." 
We know better now. 
We better know now. We know
Better how to dance together now.