Looking For Local Color

by nonameharbor / Oct 06, 2008 / 1 comments

Those Mile Marker People


Florida Keys people aren't interesting

On purpose. They evolve once they hit

The sun belt, then can't go back to upstanding

Hard work to please their grannies up north.


How easy we wake to the ripe yellow and blue sky.

We yawn and stretch under our boat canopy,

Drink double Cubano Espresso. Watch

Needle fish dart in clear aqua.


The Texan who shot his boat last night

Looks out his hatchway. Mackerels herd

Mullet into the bay, slam, rock Snow Goose.

Tai Chi Bob storks on one foot to Bob Marley.

Gray Bob, Red Bob and Bicycle Bob

Leave for their construction jobs. The naked

Sign painter queens ahead of her ape-arms hubby

To the yacht at the end of the dock. Men begin

Edging in that direction. Such are the days


In the Keys, where Christmas bulbs light up town

All year round, and we are awakened at midnight

By searchlights in the sky looking for the drug plane

That everyone knows has landed on the east shore.


When the sun is over the yardarm we meet,

Freshly showered sun-brown bodies, feet bare,

For easy laughter and rum-cokes and gazpacho.

Another day in paradise, Jimmy says.




To read more about Journey of the Snow Goose:



Comments (1)

Leave a comment