Key Dali by Robert Tacoma

Author:Robert Tacoma
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2010-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

18

Marina

There’s something about the morning air in the tropics. In the cool months, the breeze coming off the water can energize a person and sharpen the senses. On such a morning a person walking down the streets of a place like Key West will sometimes stop on the sidewalk just to fill his lungs with the sweet mixture of ocean air and fresh baked bagels.

I stop in the bagel shop just off Duval. In addition to the effects of the invigorating weather, my body is still tingling and hungry from the night before.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Toasted pumpernickel with everything to go, my good man!”

“Here you are. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you, I already have plenty of ocean air waiting outside.”

On the sidewalk I face the breeze and breathe deep, then stick my nose in the warm sack. Can it get any better? Did I mention I’m in love?

Ah, and Key West is looking its very best this morning under crisp bluebird skies as I nibble along the sidewalk on my way to visit Taco Bob.

I walk on air up Truman, past the laundry and quaint collection of motels, parks, scooter shops, small ethnic restaurants, and strip clubs on my way to the marina to visit my friend with some news. I do hope he’s there, as right after parting with my love a short time ago I went by the Grunt Pier and it was empty.

The thought of the glass walker brings a wash of pleasant feelings. I would have been fine with staying with her for the day, or forever, but when she said she had to go I walked with her from Stoney’s to where her bicycle was chained to a light pole.

“I have to feed my cat.”

“Toes?”

“Five.”

“Still…”

She assured me she’d keep her cat safely inside the trailer for a few days, and I watched with the melancholy of separated lovers as white shorts stretched tight above green knee-socks pedaled away towards Stock Island. That vision, still fresh, makes me sigh with longing.

But I also keep an eye open on my way from the Grunt Pier to the marina. I haven’t seen the kid and wonder if he’s given up, or just gotten better at spying on me.

Thinking of Socks feeding her cat reminded me of my own duties and I detour to the condos. I see the manager troll and he looks a bit haggard. I start to ask him how he’s been sleeping at night but don’t want to tip my hand as to who might have set the Vanguard 311 Smoke Alarm Sentinels in his unit to come on at full shriek every morning at 3 a.m.

Goldfish fed, I head for the marina. As I reach the boats I notice a bad smell in the breeze. I also see a plumber’s van by the bathhouse.

Taco Bob has told me on calm days he’ll often be fishing out on the flats in his skiff boat, but if it’s windy he’ll fish grunts off the pier, or hole up in the library or a café, reading and writing.

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