Tampa Memoirs

This is not Toledo.

We held hands through a week

in a warm dream, both, free again.

Time stood still for us.

In moments of blue, oceans wrapped us

each, with the other.

Days turned skies pink,

we moved in warm nooks inside our selves.

Strolling in days, sensations;

closing some doors

while opening others.

Moving on now touching each other with magic

for in knowing time at the each of us

love becomes our common moment.

Spinning into one we're each more than the other

living our days for, and as, all tomorrows.

I love you Alexis.

A short story

We moved through clear blue waters toes, deep into sand

winds blew up and down our backs

touches of warm magic

the sky, the sea, we were all there was.

A beacon, appearing, moving in pace towards “X”

in a map of time, him, saying "Hey, got a 1ite?”

We, offering, smoking off shore, strangers,

surrounded mutual freedoms.

Florida is a great place to be a bird.

They saw us approaching the beach, turned right angles

new comers were we.

Sharp, their turns as ternes

black heads forward, challenging wind.

The gulls could only watch from sidelines in awe.

They were motion in the uses of wind, timing moments

and we, all the same in our motions through time.

The best of days go to those who know it.

A conversation in water.

Me (eventually): ”There’s a lot of police in Florida”

Him (smoothly): “There’s a lot of police everywhere.”

Me (thinking): We’re small in numbers but still, find each other.

Tampa Exit

No comment, other than to say

you shouldn’t smoke illegal substances

in the restrooms of airplanes

while passing up dinner for another free drink.

It can make some people sick enough to think

you’re over Cleveland

while on route from Tampa to Rochester.