Another walkabout with old friends.

0645/2019 82/90 Hazy S5/10 80%H
DOGS 8211 6028 9158 1298.

Greetings from the Hill.

The lazy hazy days of summer,
hard to imagine that chickens
are an endangered species
in Key West.

"Why not the drunks and homeless,"
rants the oldman from the balcony
getting the hose ready.

The breeding bastards communicate
from all corners of the lot
and the block...
arrogant red assholes
with their fucking wives,
and that crazy old indianwoman
midwife to the breed,
a blogger now
sitting on her ass
telling lies
avoiding reality.

Off to the waterfront and gawk
at the tourists who walk
a short block to Duval Street,
"And buy a stupid Tshirt,"
growls the madone hating crowds
of gullible people
expecting something original.

"Visit the Custom House and learn,
you worthless dumbfucks," screaming
and making a scene among
the senseless sheep.

His brain was filled with conspiracies,
secret plots and encrypted codes,
sniffers and phishing,
fastflux botnets,
unique shings of URL's,
the Obama spam and...
the malcode gang.

Someone would understand hopefully,
a glass of wine with a friend,
recollections of days past.

"Hey, Mad Jack, you old fucker,
come on in, I heard you were dead,"
laughing and offering a chair
and a clean glass
with cat hair.

Some things never change.

"Hey, I read your blog..
too bad you never learned to write,
let alone type....you see, I had to,
when I was a reporter with
the Toronto Star, Eh..Ha,Ha,"
emptying the bottle of wine.

Tourists and cats passed unseeing.

His head was dizzy and he had a date.

"Well, sweetie, you're late as usual,
getting drunk with that fraud,"
pretending outrage and rejection,
"Everyone knows everything
in our queer community, we talk..
on telephones,..heh heh heh,"
offering a foamy glass of beer
with dog hair.

They moved to the gazebo
joining other guests
who seemed ageless,
"I say, Ten," boomed
the manly Gore Vidal,
"Let's have a gay day."

And so 'it' became.

Finally arriving on the beach
and the patient lady.

"Visiting old friends from the past,"
that knowing smile,
enquiring for more.

"The current crisis is not only the bust
that follows the housing boom,
its basically the end
of a sixty year period
of continuing credit expansion
of the dollar as reserve currency.
Following the pound.
Now the rest of the world
is increasingly unwilling
to accumulate dollars...",
she sighed, gazing towards Cuba.

"No longer a reserve currency globally..
maybe the renmindi, the euro,
maybe the world buck,
or simply VISA,"
smiled the oldman
with youthful thoughts,
adlibbing a George Soros speech.

A strange day in paradise
where memories never age
and dreams dance
with the wind
talking in the night.

A summer breeze in the keys.

Hofuckingho,
pretty funny.