Lazy late afternoon off A1A, fish dancing on top of the water like Bill “Bojangles” Robinson and floppin’ and flippin’ and tippin’ and tappin’ about, fishermen and wannabe fishermen throwing out lines into the water, tourists from Wisconsin and all points north in awe, boiled lobsters eating their expensive fish dinners with two hush puppies and some cole slaw, fish jumping out of the water again and again craning their necks to see if any of their relatives or friends are on those plates...golden rays of sunlight playing on her hair and she plays with the strings on her bikini and tosses her hair, eyes looking up once in a while to see if anyone is looking at her, music jumpin’ bumpin’ and thumpin’, margaritas flowing freely but not free, beer cold in frosted glasses handed out by cute young girls in short skirts and guys making passes at the lasses and giving fake names...thatched huts acting as beachside cantinas with cute names and torchlights blazing, surrounding them, 2 for 1 cocktails, pina coladas and fruity exotic names, the nimble try the limbo, and later a lone guitar strumming and playing covers and people talking and laughing and dreaming and scheming and quietly getting slammed...sun going down now behind lemon and tangerine clouds with midnight blue curtains closing behind them and the souvenir shops are closing with big gates locking, the big hats that block the sun are put away, the keychains, the shell necklaces, the t-shirts, the flip flops, the beach towels, all going to a sound sleep...the sponges, the shell art, the gator heads... pirate ships that marauded during the day have docked for the night and will plunder again tomorrow with kiddies and parents aboard...drifting down the beach, the happy calypso and the trop rock battle each other in melodic strains that cascade through the humid summer night and over the ocean at low tide and the moon being ever so coy...the colorful lights twinkling and the glasses clinking and the band playing a little louder than they should...the audience yells out requests but the band doesn’t seem to hear them...barefoot couples dancing, and the boat engines are quiet except for a distant little roar a little ways off shore...one boat with little green and red lights going north to south...sailboats wait ready for tomorrow morning’s winds...on the sand, the children run and play, lovers try to steal away and re-enact a scene from ‘Here to Eternity’...steel drums now beating out rhythmatic pulsations, people no longer caring if anyone is looking, other people aimlessly walking by on the sand...shells being picked up and put down, the bigger ones are supposed to sound like the ocean, waves that look nothing like diamonds but sparkle as they shimmy and shake under a sliver of moonlight, Bahamas and the Virgin Islands beckon, far off islands seem so close now, ocean breezes whispering.
