Thursday, October 7, 2010

"Put in another Parking Lot!"

0721/1908 74/83 Blue Skies NE 10/20 65%H.
DOGS 10942 8393 1358 2357. Libor 23. Vix 21.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
the oldman survived another battle
with the end of living...

"Fucking near fell over the balcony,
telling drunk tales all afternoon
and smoking the funny stuff,"
laughed the madone
always watching over.

The lady writer across the street
brought 'the brews'...
the painter the funny stuff,
Tony and Jake entertained,
hard to do but laugh
when the oldman was showing off.

That marvelous time of the year
when summer nights end,
"Assholes with airconditioning
would never know, will never."

Awakening at two for a blanket,
seventy five degrees
and a chill wind
from the north...
gusting trees
and noisy leaves
watching stars
from the balcony.

Hard to be distressed
in Key West.

Even Bill was smiling
finding a woman
to tolerate him.

Love at that age gives hope
and the promise of dreams
to long neglected
almost forgotten
"But 'it's' still
like bicycle,"
laughed Tony
off to photograph
a time in history.

Something very strange
was happening down deeper
in that current of subterfuge,
that flow of finance
that feeds the greedy sharks
and provides clean sheets for tourists.

"Who cranked up the Dream Machine,
then fucked the 'Golden Duck,"
laughed the oldman,
watched 'it' all,
the boom and fall,
each and every crooked lawyer,
all the phony politicians,
and promising developers
facilitated by the scum...
lying conniving bureaucrats
who hate and cheat the system
for a buck or a fuck...

Clerks and secretaries
who keep the secrets.

"Until the Mango is Ripe!"

"Key West is a forgiving town!"

"But everyone knows."

"Everyone in Key West is a believer...
they're always going to be leaving!"

The oldman had on his Adidas sneakers
and a custom golf shirt,
classics static from the wind,
tits talking on CNBC,
seventy five degrees at ten,
ideal weather.

A good day to make up stories.

The Hyatt, the Galleon, the Westin,
Jabours Trailer Park, the Vet's Club,
Schooner Wharf, the Half Shell,
the Mascot, the Big Fleet,
and Swinging Doors...
shrimp boats on Elizabeth Street.

"And some say that cocaine
is as easy to buy...
as Key Lime pie."

Broadcasted on all networks,
when Manny, Manuel and Bum
were all arrested.

Nose candy for queers.

Cheap flights to New York
and a bag to go!

Gentrify a conch house
and call 'it' a guest home,
pay 'it' off in a year,
as long as Cass is watching,
protecting, collecting.

Crooked, sleezy little town.

Three hundred petrified fruits
on an Eastern jet praying
to land safely...
no high rises yet.

Wolkowsky sold out on the beach,
the Cowboys bought Casa Marina,
great plans for Stock Island,
vacant islands in the harbor.

High school kids drove cadilacs
sported gold necklaces,
daddy had a shrimp boat,
then ChooChoo made hulls
for faster transport.

The Monster was the place.

Two Million Tourists
taking home a souvenir.

Operation Sunburn...
operation this, the fucking feds
wouldn't let be.

Outsiders snitched.

Protection went to jail.

The curse killed the fun.

Gays wanted a garden,
a granite table,
and a marriage certificate.

Monogamy without polygamy.

Smuggling slowly died.

Old houses got gentrified
and flipped every two years,
conchs were millionaires
on paper and at the bank.

MERS, MOM and Fat Fanny.

"Who the fuck is C Jae Heinberg,
one might ask of Capt H Hunt,
partaking at Dantes,
wondering about the parking lot,
Kings Point, Cortex, Keys Caribbean,
and thirty other fronts of
Feldman, Koenig and Highsmith,"
laughs the madone on the balcony.

Above the Horn.

Playing the flute.

1 comment:

  1. Playing the flute sure feels good hey . Still on a flute journey lost n the mist on the mountians of Maui , will find my way ... hard to be homesick when one has no home ...
    I stand alone simply because I have no friends in this world nor shall I pretend I do . no worries .