Skip to main content


Showing posts from January, 2017

Drink on Hemingway

I drove through Islamorada in a fiery Mustang convertible with the top down and Marley and the Wailers playing over and over while my foot weighed down like gravity on the accelerator. Spontaneous flight to Miami, now on the hunt for inspiration once owned by the man who left a blueprint to literary fortune in his short, swift typewriter strokes. Hotel in Key West where a cute girl in navy blue g-string bikini waits poolside for me to make a move, but I'm incapacitated by irreverent sun beams and the beauty of her fresh tan lines. Ernest Hemingway Night falls. Drag queens on Duval Street singing Christmas carols. Ruckus up ahead, sirens and handcuffs, I turn left to Whitehead, to find blues burning from Caffeine Carl and the Funky Beans and wild locals getting loose on buckets of beer, drunk on the notion I'm in heaven, but it's filthy and lonely after a while. Wallet empty, party strong, I leave dejected, seeking inspiration, call on Hemingway ... Show yours

Unre quit ed

Unre quit ed is a bitch A back to scratch that doesn’t itch A nose to pick that always bleeds  A potted garden full of weeds A towel to dry unwashed hands A container filled with rubber bands Unre quit ed is a bitch A gaping wound with no stitch A mirrored ball with no dance A matching top with no pants A drink in hand with no thirst A thinking man’s muttered curse Unre quit ed is a bitch A name I’d say but just can't snitch.