Fort Myers Beach




                               This is a town without the history
                               or wealth to have accumulated
                               a travel poster, a photo spread,
                               at every turn of a corner,
                               or shift of the eyes.

                               The cheap fun of a beach boutique,
                               a funky facade, a cover band,
                               margaritas and deep fried shrimp
                               invite a reversion to type.
                               The credence of a limbic sunrise
                               subdues analysis, heed.

                               Someone's vagrant cologne,
                               sandalwood, jasmine, and lime,
                               rides the pennant-bright air.
                               A gust of colorful wind-tumbled litter,
                               scrunched jagged orbs
                               and skittish fragments,
                               ramble by like a family on vacation.





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