"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, I piled into fitting rooms. Nothing dared look paltry on me. Stepping through the curtain to strut,
dance even, was electric.
Watered memories of lime greenery contrasting petal pink leopards, a white background.
It’s A line neck barely hugged down to my knees.Smiling at all the times I would borrow her
costume jewelry as garnish.
Intractable, irreplaceable, it lacks replication. I hear lyrics of a ‘64 song; Dylan’s voice
reminds me: times change, memories fade, yet feelings outlast them all.
Present again, I am solid, abrasive to time.
"A 15 me and my brother, Long Key ,FL"
Written by Julia Wiggins
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