Wednesday, May 20, 2009

South Beach: Near & Far

Across the street is the pale yellow and pink Flamingo Plaza, where polo players used to stay in the 1920s, when nearby Flamingo Park was a polo field.  The dark green in the foreground: kamali trees, which are said to have originated in Hawaii.  Wild tropical storms for the last few days, plenty of sunshine in between storms.

On the balcony below, my neighbor's chair is empty, but hillbilly music rolls out from his open doorway. Soon he'll come out with his book and coffee. He'll be wearing shorts; when he goes out at night, he wears black, a cowboy hat and a rhinestone bolero.  From time to time he cooks pasta and sausages for us.

I've been in most of the morning while the corroded broken down stove that gives off shocks is taken out.  Being in here in South Beach is not like being in at home in Massachusetts.  There's so much light; there's the little balcony; there's my neighbor's music--Hank Williams' voice broken up by the wind, a ship on the horizon, nothing between this shore and the coast of Africa.       


  1. Need a roommate? I always wanted to play polo.

  2. Alas, Bluedog, the polo field is long gone; and there's no room in the condo.

  3. Oh, I like the neighbor....and the rolling hillbilly music. Sound like heaven.

  4. My neighbor was playing Hank Williams--that twangy expressive voice. Neighbors' music hardly ever a bother here as it could be back home.