In Florida

In Florida,
the land of the dead for me.
All those memories of bouncing on
airboats through swamps, and
wandering around exotic bird parks,
and listening to King Crimson
on the wide lawn
under the wide sky
by the reflecting lagoon.
And sometimes driving, sometimes walking
over to my great aunts, and uncles, apartments
for bowl snacks and conversation.
There was that one time --
Meyer borrowed our walkman.
Suddenly
volume spun all the way up,
all the way up
he could hear again.
Oh my god such a smile.
All gone now, that gang.
There were two Irvings.
And all alligators gone.
All tennis courts gone.
All rec centers gone
with miles of immaculate green felt pool tables.
Key West too.
And Florida is for me.
The land of the dead for me.

4 thoughts on “In Florida”

  1. This is lovely. For me, it recalls the feeling I had years ago, when my father was forever dying, about my home town–86th to 93rd on Lexington Avenue in Manhatan–and a then current Paul Simon song went:
    Nothing but the dead and dying
    Back in my little town
    Nothing but the dead and dying
    Back in my little town

    Reply
  2. it’s a small big apple. my great-aunt has lived about 2 blocks from there for decades — I go there at least once a year my own self.

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