Summertime Blues.

0639 2008 78/85 Blue Skies E 5/10 60%H
DOGS 10174 7396 1215 1815. LIBOR 30.6. VIX 30.4.

Greetings from the Hill.

A perfect day in paradise,
chores done and a walk to Faustos.

Blue skies and Poincianna blooming,
a light breeze in the florida keys,
quiet streets without trucks...
gentrification in recession.

The oldman had rearranged his quarters,
Big Mac in the bedroom with CNBC,
classics and jazz in the study,
the guestroom empty,
the presidents room in disarray,
the artist leaving for elsewhere.

Summertime without cashflow.

And the dreaded change.

Big Mac out of memory.

Shit and a slick
all at once.





cuban oregano plants burgeoning
on the balcony...
always a balance to confusion.

Out back the master carpenter
is planing Pensacola pine boards
for frames complimenting his art,
"He waits until he leaves,"
grumbles the madone,
never liking change.

A month away from world obsessions
and what has changed but topics,
the fright of the day,
the dread of overnight
trading losses...
"A computer gone Mad,"
laughs the oldman,
gazing at Moony's folly
across the alley,
gentrification gone sad,
the daughter lost,
the old man hospitalized,
an empty dream.

The nation ready to explode,
major cities preparing bankruptcy,
bonds all shorted by the Fraudsters,
all renegotiated without the DEBT...
fuck highrider pensions,
all very strange with the unionman
on the board of the FRBNY.

Running out of power.

Blue skies in paradise.