Greetings from the Hill
68/80 Blue skies ENE5/10 0708/1746 85%H
At home alone for the holidays, Sweet Jesus...
cats fed, floors swept, plants watered,
notes written, internet broused, Blog plogging,
"Doesn't get better than this," smiles the oldman
sipping a cold glass of Millers with a booger.
Reading Cayo Dave, a realestate blogger,
thirteen homes sold last month,
seven houses, six condoboxes at prices
from 300/FT to 600/FT.
"Hey, the gay neighbour says the new rate
will be by the queer inch, Hofuckingho,"
laughs the madone feeling good.
Butterflies in the papaya tree
cuban wrens in the love vine
cats sleeping on the scaffolding
palm trees swaying...
"That's what 'it' is about,
walking onto the balcony
The oldman was 'hoohooing' to the doves,
"These are Purple necked Madagasgar doves
very special and holy," intoned Rigo
visiting the day of his father's death,
"This is my sanctuary," with a rare tear.
"They are as fat as pigeons and tastier,"
offered the erudite opinion of Doctor Coy
returning from above for financing
"In Cuba," chorused the oldman
and the madone, a dream of dreams.
"The problem is one of interim financing,"
trimming the oregano for the future hillsides
of chinese style growing gardenfalls
a grand idea four thousand years feeding
nations without SIVs taking thier SUVs
without advertising taking the eye
away from the moment
the black cat on the scaffolding in the high sun
above the streets of tourist gold.
In these Isles
Above the Horn.