Saturday, July 23, 2016

spring hop

july in florida is a mirage of cool.
everything verdant, flowerful, purple and yellow
pods pop along US 98 like a kettle korn explosion
take that as a warning. when you step out
of your air conditioned car onto these tar streets
better have some shoes on, make for the nearest
swinging doors and wipe off the sweat.
rain only makes it steamier and is often served
with a plate of thunder and megavolts.
it is time to get out of the city.

i've so often posted our fights, the way we grew
and tore each other apart and grew some more.
it helped me  work through some tough time without
shredding you into pieces. i think it's only fair
that now you've shed your teen angst skin
i write about how great it is to travel with you
and your girl , how pleased i am to treat you
to sangria at dinner , to buy her a  new
 pair of goggles because i lost hers
and both our spare cigarettes
 back at fanning springs
when we both decided to skip
outta there  due to the gasoline smell
from the boats docking as they come off
the suwanee river and i ain't grudging
those boaters a nice dip but less than
twenty minutes away is a sweet spring where
only kayaks and canoes come in
so let's get on with this
 micro mini vacation from working for a living
get offa this bench where the ants bit
the back of my legs and now both me and grandbaby
have pustules running up our thighs, hers
from home,mine a souveneir
 of a nice place to picnic
but i would wanna come again, however it did
cool us off enough to get back the motel and check into
twin queen bed rooms - one of mine rocks but it's ok i'm
sleeping alone in the other one-where i connected
the wifi and found at least five bar b que
joints within three miles and even the greek place
we settled on served a rack of ribs and also found
out that hart springs and otter springs look pretty sweet
from google earth so we're gonna skip the known
crowds at rainbow spring for the unknown, just north of here.
and we don't have to get up at the crack of dawn
and you know, that's another thing i love
 about travelling with you, you
that mornings off are meant to be savored
not rushing around trying to meet some goddamn
appointment so we hang out a while then go for
 second swim, this time at manatee springs, five
miles down the road, where the current pushes
us faster and the water is colder and clearer
and you can smell the frangipangi blossoms
before they fall into the water like orange
peels from sunset and we swim with our googles
chasing a school of minnows across the shallow
rocks and i reach out to grab one and spot a snake
hanging out on the bottom and i think i've just about
had enough swimming for the day, though
i'm not exactly as frightened of the snake as of
the man with a half orso tatoo in gothic font
loading five blonde haired kids all spring
floates onto a big round inflatable raft.
in the swimming area. no one broke out their guns though
and i see that as positive.


Tuesday, July 05, 2016


the sun through closed windows is a thug
peek out there, is he still around?
all day we find one way or another to avoid
the grill, the hambugers, the hot dogs, 
  let's be a parade of three as long as we don't
 have to go outside.
 never mind, download another game on the fire, 
the cut from the beach begins to ache. 
it's even too hot to play dolls. 
she wants to go home. 
daddy says he'll have sparklers.
here is only laundry and no ice cream and 
 a firebomb blast every time 
the door opens. 

  the weeds have been picked and scythed 
under the shade and reclining sun, less a blowtorch
than a hundred candles. tonight there will be fireworks
all along the causeway.    park
on the edge at dusk while the shoreline bursts
into weeping willows and dandelions 
while the sky is sprinkled with lovers knots
and parachutes of stars. 
thousands have had the same idea
but your timing was perfect. you caught all eight
  lights  green on memorial and breezed 
through the mess  turning into the parking garage.
you head for the third light, after the sandy
 beach where the rocks
pile against the linear  motor parkway and palms
dot the roadside in packs of five.  when the tide 
is out, you can scramble down to the water
but tonight the air swims
 in mulitcolored mini temporal jellyfish
as you turn right. there is a fortuitious
 boat ramp, emptying in the dying light.
your spot is second in. cross the hiway 
to the other side, backing up traffic 
that turns into the gridlock bayside
even more. you dare the cars to hit you.
any other night they wouldn't even see you.
thousands . with hundreds of dollars of skyrockets
and areal bombs , all looking for a place to be beautiful.
you leave early, when the first of the assault rifle mimics
begins to go off. you aren't quite sure it's just fireworks
anymore. niether is the woman who just pulled back
to make more room to set off these things for her baby,
who she pulls close to her breast when that sound hits.

i cant express the trepidation that rests
in the back of my head everytime i go out in public
where there are potential victims for potentential
lone gunmen with semi automatic weapons 
that go off like firecrackers but with a deadlier results.
it takes an act of blindness to think it won't happen
eventually here, somehow, where you go, where
we gather in the name of freedom, and the lurker
with the bullets that need no names.

Monday, July 04, 2016

ibroke your favorite glass

the star fish and the daisy are both broken now
july 4th 2016 along with the plans with friendsandfamily
broken like exploding shells in barely dark sky
at the edge of florida highway sixty running
 from vero beach to clearwater, GALAXY fireworks
light the sky with jellyfish that phwew into a minnows
winking out  every five hundred yards, off in the distance
tampa's skyline is backlit by the professional display
irrational exhuberance that goes on for a half hour tens
0f thousnads of dollars matched by the group
on the edge of the bay fifeen miles away
torching the month's discretionary income
of fifteen frat boys and the food stamp mama
parking her car to get a place to set these fireworks
off for my baby. across the street where the
big guns play, the sound of a semi automatic erupts
she grabs her baby girl and huddles by the car
we all listen frr screams but there's just the normal noises
of red white and blue weeping willows raining
down on the parade of cars that blow their horms
trying to get out of gridlock. i'll get the car, i tell you
but you watch the woman cringe, hear the gunfire
again wondering if that's real life of just camoflage.
stop the traffic, someone wants our space so we get out
just like that. the night's just beginning, but we watched
fifteen cities across the bay shoot chrysanthemums of red
hibiscus of white and gold willows
then the grand finale of hiway sixty and boat ramp road
above our heads while fifteen miles of beachfront
was lit up by apartment dwellers
quite used to the sound of nearby explosion