This story is itself an introduction, so, it needs none.

Sweet Like Country Pepper, Hot Like Morning Dew
by M.James Cooper

If I were to tell you about this place I call home in one word, I'd say, Goodness. Home is where people move about as if they own it, not realizing it is on loan from God and the spirits  that came before them. See them walking, knock kneed, pigeon-toed, or straight like arrow, and, pushing with happy aggression, and, shoving, inviting play. Finding each other on corners or under sheds, and laughing, hot sweaty faces, heads tilted back, open mouths catching the sunlight, talking too loud, dancing a dance, taking a wine, knees bent, asses up, hands in the air. As they proceeded to live they shook the land and made the salted waters jump and wave and crash against the rich soils. But never mind the waters, no one ever falls over or capsizes into it unless they themselves jump in it. Limeing, beers and soft-drinks in hand, rum mixed with coconut water, loosening tongues, passions rising, rising to the top of something from somewhere that before lay dormant, under control; hot burnt sugar hands persuading you to take a dip, or a woman with seasoned hips, who might give yuh a taste. Like I said, never mind that, just enjoy yuh'self.
And so this is some of what it is, home, the sounds of good living cause good vibrations to be just that, good. From the feet of giants that send speaker-like thundering sensations, sometimes with sound, sometimes just felt underfoot, it travels from the center, boom after boom it wakes the dust up, then makes the trees happy, then the birds jump from their resting places to tell each other about it; eventually it reaches the things beneath and allover, spreading to the ocean, it is then the currents frighten the water causing it to jump and crash exposing frothy teeth that make the would-be-hot boys and girls scream then turn and run, naked exposed bottoms shaking, no shame, no guilt, no sins, yet, and no matter, they run, the children, they run, into the hot burnt sugar hands of their male elders or wrap their own skinny ones around the soft jiggling hips of their mothers....