Ah, the 305.
The 786.954.754.561
The heat
The beat
The re-treat

Where visitors
and ‘gators
lounge around
basking,
and former generals,
presidents and dictators,
barons
and their ladies
chill.
They’re not here to shrill

Sometimes the hunters and the hunted
do a stare-down,
four eyes behind tinted glasses
across steamy streets.
They sit at marble and granite tables
With their rum punch, cigars,
café
and latte

Behind them: actions,
pulpit, politics,
power
and might.
Big rims of hummers
double M’s (Mercedes, Maseratis)
double R’s (Rolls Royce)
bling and gin

Before them: reactions,
Dr. Scholls, Web MD,
Honda
And Accord.
After iced tea on the verandah,
some may wander.
Bedtime at dusk
becomes a must

It’s all just par for the course
In the 305.
The 786.954.754.561
The heat
The beat
The re-treat

From: Three Echoes Dancing