Mabel

The oscillating fan blows a wet stench of rotting grapefruit into my nostrils and across the steaming cement walkways of the trailer park.

I live here, in White Man’s County, Florida.

From  my tin can window I watch the glow of  Big Mabel’s cigarette In the darkness next door It fades in then out A beacon for the shipwrecked souls that doze in their sweaty single wides.

We’re all here — Marinating in our tropical dreams; Love, money, prosperity and Jesus.

I say another affirmation as I step on a palmetto bug and pour some instant coffee.

I live here, in Paradise — five blocks away from Disney World.

Against the silhouette of palm trees The sky lightens; gray, now pink A mockingbird sings TV’s switch on blue lights spill out of windows into the parking lot exposing shadows and lost dreams.

Big Mabel coughs and stamps out her cigarette methodically grinding it into the paving stones of her carport.

Her night vigil having ended She moves her bulk from the aluminum folding chair to a sofa inside.

I hear the whole world sigh As Mabel lays down

Then — An itinerant dog knocks over a trash can Grapefruits spill out and Roll up to my front door.

This is where I live — five blocks away from Disney  World.