Forida, Mid-50's

Florida, Mid 50’s

We left winter behind and drove south where
My father could work as a carpenter.
No cold or snow
Or grumpy great-aunts here.

The light stayed long and we went to the sea
Every day when my father returned from the housing boom
In Naples where stick frames littered the palm-meadow
Like whale bones.

The aqua sea rolled on the white sand
To my brown legs foaming and sinking my feet.
My bucket held shells and branches of coral.
My mother lay like a curved bronzed sculpture in the sun.

Old women smiled here; they bent to me,
Their hats shading us.
One told me she liked to eat cold potatoes
With salt, another gave me a lemon the
Size of a grapefruit.

I roller-skated on the patio in the garden
Between the strawberries and the finger bananas.
We drank juice from oranges growing in the yard.

I was allowed to put a thin silver dime
Into the big red coke machine and a shapely bottle
Dropped down: beaded light green glass.
I drank it all myself with my feet dangling
Just above the terrazzo floor.

Big boys walked by, cutting slices of coconut
Into their mouth with sharp knives.
There were snakes in the palmetto but they had
Paths and secret places in there.

My mother wore dresses and sandals and red lipstick.
My father’s shirts were crisp and pressed and
Smelled of sun and Old Spice.
I wore ribbons in my chestnut hair and took my first
Communion next to Billy Door.