On the Veranda

If you, like I,

sit off to the side

of the grand entry

to the Gulfstream,

in front of the doors

of the hotel bar

Later I will be

on the balcony above

the street

unobserved

spying

drinking

something harder

But for now

at eye level

I sip coffee

and nod to

passersby

And now

the pride parade

is passing

my child

holding a flag high

In my mind

the paint is fresh

the bar is noisy

the windows

are not boarded up

My heart is not yet broken

by the continual dying

of the grand old lady

of Lake worth.