Greetings from the Hill.
72/80 BLUE SKIES E5/10 0702/1740 85%H
A gorgeous day in paradise, chores done, cats fed,
a few pages in the journal, the usual internetting,
an email from Joe Bageant, his liver survived the
Australian book tour....the drain of fame.
The breeze shifting to the southeast, the humidity
of the tropics from the Gulfstream and overnight
showers, quiet streets without the Conchtrain
filled with cruiseshippers, the bigspenders.....
"Ah, yes, this five star destination for the rich and
greedy, two hundred dollar rooms at hotels and
motels, buy a condosuite for 1M to3M and
rent for five hundred a night, what a joke,"
growled the madone sitting back and thinking,
"Eggs benedict, a bloody Mary and a fat line of coke
on the Pier House outer deck, those were the days,"
the days of Ronald Reagan.....
Of course they were the days, the nights of excitement,
usually forgotten but always related by better memories
the next morning arranging the 'deal' in every yard.
Pot was still the straights drug of choice, but getting
much to bulky for transportation, other minds had other
bright ideas....the gay guesthouses had better plans.
"Fucking Aone, a little white bag on Air Sunshine,
then back to the Big City with Key West delights,
these asshole condoboneheads are the real sissies,"
snorting in imagination of the smuggling days.
The oldman checked the webcam to check on cruiseships,
marvelous devices for the homeridden, a strange word,
the constant obsession with the tourist market....
"Makes a person puke and wonder, home prices falling,
bank loans tightening like a virgin's asshole,
condo sales off twenty percent in Miami and....
the Conchs are building....assbackwards, fucking dunces,"
sipping tea, finishing the toast before the ants,
cats taking the breeze in the window sills,
the neighbor's four front palm trees swaying in quartet,
green all about from the view on the Hill.
"Jesus H Fuck, the death tour, oldfarts with stickers
and wrinkles looking for a condotel in paradise,"
grumbling as the eleven oclock load passes half full,
Swifty's realestate tour and they pay to gawk.
The Development Dilemma seems only elsewhere
not in the land of the Golden Goosed where all is up
and up and up....and the rich will pay.
"And so does say Big Mac and Little M., together
as they conspire to take the golden goose eggs
from the TDC, my my, one wonders why,
cutbacks in state funding, shortfalls in property tax,
but the bedtax gets bigger and bigger, hofuckingho,"
muses the oldman seen it before always more.
Strange things about the waterfront and the operaters,
the address seems necessary in the trundled bundles,
an all year destination with no snow removal
and no class entertainment, one would think that
Blackstone would bring New York names
to Casa Marina and The Reach, cheap fucks.
The north side is going to own your own whatever
and of course those slips are extra....
this venture of 300 million is mastered by locals,
the Princes of Duncedom,
buttt the Palace Gates to the Golden City
seem to be under the control of the Conch Queens,
a most formidable force.
Without a doubt the island has gentrified from the days
of The West Key Bar, the 900 Bar, the FullMoon Saloon,
some say The Monster started 'it' all....
always looking for 'it'..
maybe in the Citizen classified
that sorryass excuse for the Truth,
oldman Artman's houses are still in the family.
The oldman's back was aching from this effort,
time for a noon beer on the balcony
taking the breeze
in the florida keys
in the Isles of Eternal Sun
above the Florida Horn.
The Panthers suck
the Dolphins pathetic
Welcome to Miami.
South in search of Golden Eggs.