Greetings from the Hill
A Key West sunday, peaceful.. quiet.
No tradesmen trucks, no assholes,
overweight assholes on mopeds.
The oldman was burned out,
hosting a homeless friend and pet.
"That fucking iquana has to go,"
ranting and raving at the little fellow.
His nerves were delicate from his diet.
"Yeah, asshole, five gallons of beer,
and three joints a day....enough is
...enough, back to the plan."
The madone kept Law and Order.
The classics from Havana were silent,
the television a black silent eye,
the oldwoman shuffled about
playing her flute, driving the oldman
"Well I spent all my money at Faustos...
I guess I'll have to stay longer."
Taking the carrot cake and chocalate
icecream from the refrigerator and
settling into the editors' chair.
The oldman sighed and took his notebook
and pen........to the balcony.
A lovely breeze in the florida keys,
these Isles of the Eternal Sun,
among the friendliest people
of the world.