Will be leaving soon for Orlando,
Away from the cold in Ontario.
Will I return?
I really don't know.

A wacko may secretly board my plane;
A radicalized lunatic far from sane.

Or Canada geese, heading south,
Might take our fuelled jet engines out.

Some random lightning shot from the sky
Lights up our cockpit,
And the pilots die.

The landing gear is up and stuck...
“I don't think I drank enough!”

There's mad rage on the road
Between
Orlando and St. Augustine.

There’s snub-nosed guns in too many bags,
And the pubs are teeming with cougars and *****.

The Matanzas flows with gators and sharks,
I'll make note of this as my kyak embarks.

A drunken driver could do the job;
Or I get hospitalized
From being robbed.

An Early Bird bone might make me choke,
Or an errant golf ball holes out in my throat.

Perhaps nothing happens, I’m too suspect
Of the possible perils from my Florida trek.

Is it worth the risks. I’ll let you know,
When I get back to the warmth  of Ontario.

I'm often asked by friends afar
What was that bright and shining star
That led me to this place of joy
To truly savor this, my rather special toy.

Was it the palm trees swaying in the breeze,
The cheeky Pelicans skimming waves with ease,
Florida's sun beaming brightly morn to dusk,
No need of taking weather Gods to task.

Miles of sand flanking the beach side road,
Reflections of my sportscar sleek and broad,
Cutting the air with startling grace
A glorious rumble heralding its pace.

Heads turning then blinded by the sheen,
A glimpse of Its lustrous body powerful and lean,
What better way to pass a perfect day
So far from all that usual fray.

Harmony and peace can come in many forms,
No need to heed convention, stated norms,
This passion shared by us the few,
Underneath that sky of blinding blue.

They crest the white foam in perfect formation,
With purpose and strength they flap as they glide,
Fixated ahead in assured navigation,
Each trailing the other with nowhere to hide.

Then all of a sudden with no clear command,
They veer on some path and head for the sky,
Soaring the waves like a mischievous band,
Riding the thermals with a predatory eye.

No longer a pod but single torpedoes,
Spotting their quarry they launch with intent,
Diving at speed like rapacious mosquitoes,
To feast on that glimmering shoal now hell bent.

Again and again they dive to then surface,
Their sacks full of loot hidden from sight.
Transfixing, majestic, nature's true circus,
The curtain then falling as they once more take flight.

Florida's Pelicans, a marvelous sight,
Gregarious and cheeky with us so entwined,
Once hunted and culled as merely a blight,
Now in our hearts so fully enshrined.

Giddy-up to Goofey-land,
Saddle up the pachyderms;
Ain't Florida grand.
They click and cluck
Don't give a ****;
They kiss... kiss...kissing
And yet they're missing
The white hat way of life.
They know squat,
And that ain't a lot,
As they ride off
In all directions.

I hope every day
brings you as much joy
as you felt riding down
that Florida highway.

I hope you can drive
with the windows down,
sunroof open,
a convertible as safe
as your recurring fairytale.

I hope the wind
blows through your hair,
the humidity feeling
like a warm hug
from the clouds.

I hope the music is loud,
and you know every word.

I hope you’re present.

Cigarettes and coffee and you.

If I had to name three things I couldn't live without,
I guess those would be the things. But it’s not an addiction,
per say. I only like cigarettes when your callused fingers
offer them to me,
your wordless expression showing concern and contentess.
I blow away our pain and worries and pass it on for later,
thinking I’ll make some coffee again today.
For both of us like I usually do.
Coconut milk in yours and creamer in mine, right?


My toes are suddenly cold
I dip them in these tender aqua waters,
juxtaposing itself with the Tampa humidity
that laces my cup. I can't tell if
you resting your arms around my waist
brings a fire within me
or if it gives me chills.
I start swaying to some synonymous tune
that happens to play in both of our heads at this moment,
even though the only music is
the wind whistling
through the shells and stems of the palm leaves.

My lips are, coffee and cigarette and you stained.
The painful heat always disrupts this heavenly time for us.

So we’ll meet here, same time tomorrow.
I wouldn't want to live without it.