Warm Half Moon Trio
Book dropped, Mother.
Giants’ loss, Father.
Car wash dry.
Crouched white cat laps.
Developer buys pristine green thick acre.
Developer levels trees brush scrub.
Chachalacas leave, lost.
The United States opens.
Cruise ships to Havana.
And I was on a ferry with my parents and brother from Miami to Havana in 1953.
Hundreds stood by the rail …and then, the lure, ease, tug of the mob ….
I joined the hundreds in throwing coins into the gray black harbor waters.
Black men in bikini briefs dove from the dock into the water,
Retrieved the coins, and surfaced with them in their mouths.
We threw more and they dived more and surfaced again ….
Did I really do that?
Yes, I did.
“Why not! You were a kid, part of a mob and group,” a friend says.
Yes, yes, I was ….