1975
Winter
Past midnight
A Palm Beach golf course
The 17th green
Palm trees silhouettes
Against a starry balmy night.
I fall asleep.
On a sheet
On the green grass.
Before dawn
Rain drops
Not rain
Green sprinklers
To the west night
To the east the sun
Flamingoes surrounded the green
Pink flamingoes
A hot swampy morning
Florida
Water everywhere
Te Atlantic
The Gulf Stream and the Everglades
Magical names for towns;
Key West,
Everglades City,
Miami,
Palm Beach,
Cape Kennedy,
Okechobee,,
St. Pete,
Tallahassee,
On and on to Panama City.
Better no one had ever come.
No French, no Spanish, no English, no Cubans,
No Yankees, No Rebs. No gringos.
Before Dixie Highway,
Before A1A,
Before I-95.
Sharks gliding on the Gulf Stream
Alligators floating on the Sea of Grass.
Deserted beaches and Seminoles in the swamp.
But not today
January 12, 1975
Grounds men begin the day
Before the dawn.
I gather my things.
I’ve been in Florida before
April 1971
Easter Weekend
Fort Lauderdale
Across from the Elbow Bar
With three South Shore friends
There was no Tuesday Weld
No remake of WHERE THE BOYS ARE
Only college girls and beer.
Florida 1974
Fort Lauderdale.
Two or three hours away.
On the interstate.
My thumb out to traffic.
A car stops.
A Oldsmobile 88
Thanks to the driver
“South, I’m going south.”
So is he.
Happy with the day.
Glad to be in his car
AC
80 mph
Flat highway
Flat swamp as far as far can be in Florida.
Skipping Fort Lauderdale
Miami Beach near noon
Collins Avenue
A cheap hotel
Art Deco
A room.
$15/night
In the lobby
A blind piano tuner playing ‘ROUND MIDNIGHT’
I hit the beach
Swim out far
No sharks
Only fishing boats out on the Gulf Stream.
That afternoon an older woman
Blonde thin
At the Club Deuce.
Since 1926.
Wisha
Maybe twice times my age.
She drinks fast.
Gin and tonic.
My drink.
Two hours later
Her ocean view apartment.
Windows open to the sea breeze.
In bed
She cries out ‘deeper deeper.’
Like she was paying for it.
Then again and again.
And again and again
I faked it again.
After all done.
I took a fifty
We drove out to the Everglades.
A pink Cadillac.
Me behind the wheel.
90 mph.
Sun banging down
Gators howling in the swamp
The empty road the highest point for miles around.
No Flamingos
Only a Cadillac and a bleached-blonde woman
Wisha don’t even know my name.
Only one word.
“Here.”
We do it again
Florida sun so close to your skin
Your flesh flaking off. Wisha
I whisper in her ear.
Alligators roar like drowning dogs
And Wisha screams
I moan
Faking it again.
I love Florida
It ain’t cold
I’m not staying here.
I’m California bound
To see Sherri
Santa Barbara
But not until Florida and Wisha are through with me.
Later rather than sooner.