"My Gaga's Lignum Vitae Tree in bloom, Long Key, FL" Midnight crawling, whiskey on my breath;Simonton intersects Duval to wait on a cab. Rhythms mingle, passing each soulful drunken bar while my eyes linger. Flung back, a 15 me sees the fabrics factory, a white boat of a Cadillac, and cassette tapes for crusin. A woman: 80’s tortoise sunglasses, freckled skin, a grin; hair windswept, an auburn caramel; Shorts fitted an hourglass figure; Blouse adorned in island vibes; Sandals, never flip flops. My Gaga, affectionately, a grandmother portraying charm I’ve chased all my life. Remembering; religiously she brought us meandering down here. Leaving my Papa parked in the pews of the Episcopal church on Truman, he’d migrate to the top of the LaConcha. What a perch to feel free upon with depth, salt air. Retrieval meant Cuban coffee at the laundromat. Seeing now, a wink, a smile, nodding approval of our shopping spree. Combing racks
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