Quilt’s Corner

For Elizabeth Bishop

And others would think of Hemingway as they stumbled down Duval with their cheap Mexican beer and oversized sandals that pinch their toes. But for me there is only you- a rented boat, bare feet, and the shore.

When I see you, I see you half whole. When I hear you, I hear a glass full (It’s always high proof) until some interruption leaves me stalled between you and the El Rancho motel.

Here they swim in murky pools and smoke thick Cuban cigars. Their transistor radio plays Spanish songs and I fear that I have lost you.

But you have been here all along, drawing the scenery onto blank walls, stripping me down into single syllable words- (You do me good).

We go back to my room. We whisper poetry under air conditioner moans.

At breakfast, the conversation turns to fish. I eat eggs, you make air measurements- it must’ve been this big- and I see you, Elizabeth, unpublished.

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