Last Trip B.C.

I just returned from Florida. This was my last trip B.C. (Before Child). It was lovely to get some sun. But, in many ways, the trip was kind of strange, too:


Mims, Florida


The min-pin named Toby is
a stuffed cocktail weenie, and he wets
my leg with excitement in this

tin-can house with little metal rooms
sagging from its side. All the trailers

are dust-covered cream and rust with wheels
that never turn to the road. The grapefruit
trees sprout dingy fruit and the clotheslines
sprout discount boxers. Another day in the Florida

sans Everglades. The couple claim Carolina
hillbilly fame. His Bud-Light tall boy sweats
in the hot, dark room of early afternoon.

Me, too. The couple are lean and yellowed
to grey. An old TV replays westerns
in that sort-of Sunday ennui.

God, the stench of cigarettes is dire.
Small pleasure here must be found
at the business end of a Marlboro’s fire.