Smiles of Love Lane

THERE ARE MANY SMILES OF LOVE LANE .

THE ONE OF SURPRISE AS THE ONE CAPTURED BY CONCHSCOOTER MAN FROM DIARIES OF KEY WEST . THE OLD MAN ON THE BALCONY EXPLAINS HOW WIDE IT IS , LOVE LANE THAT IS .

PUTS A SMILE ON ANY GALS FACE TO THINK THAT WIDE .

ANY LOVE LANE SHOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL STROLL WITH MEMORIES , LASTING BETTER THAN SEX.

'FOUL , FOUL' HE CRIES, 'KILL THOSE FUCKING ROOSTERS .."

" CROWING ALL HOURS OF THE DAY AND NIGHT " ,

"ENOUGH , ENOUGH". HE GRUFFS AND PUFFS AND

POPS ANOTHER MILLERS GIRL ..

AWW, THAT SWEET FOAM OF DELIGHT ,

TILL THE NIGHT FALLS

AND HE FALLS .

ENOUGH.

YES I AM SHOUTING IT OUT !

Ole Silverlegs and Heneryetta keep on smiling ,

pecking the day away .

No bugs here , no bugs there .

Just crumbs flying out the back door ,

when the old Indian woman is on the warpath.

Get , take that you little

thieves of peace and quiet," Cluckfuckingcluck," he cries out at the Old Indian woman .

peep ,peep,peep ,,, peepfuckingpeep along with his hofuckingho.

Those are your chickens the old Indian woman informs him ,

my chickens are not in the attic , they perfer the trees .

Captain smiling , guarding the flutes from all the dismay .

The days are brite and cheery for the little fella to lay upon

the glass table , out of range from the danger of floating

feathers . The old Indian woman pats his sweet little head ,

what a good guard dog he has become she thinks .

Loyal and content he is .

He loves his green beans and cups of Cuban cafe .

Makes a little fella smile and feel mellow.

Wonderful visits from Grandpa Douglas ,

and his lovely grand daughters .

They have come by to cheer up the sad old woman.

Somedays she just hides away from it all

not wanting to see nor hear the rantings of the old man.

Great cheers of laughter ring through the little rogo suite .

We can sing , we can dance , we can laugh as childred do.

A faint smile comes upon the old womans face ,

then a giggle of delight to see such a delightful display

of make belive come alive .

Dream your dreams until they come true .

Dance away your blues ,

and smile old woman smile.

She did .

As the sun was setting she was still smiling ,...

and would often as she remembers that day .

Her smile was back .

HEAR YE ! HEAR YE !

HERE COMES THE KING!

O ,BIG SMILES NOW FOR THE OLD WOMAN !

WHAT A DAY! WHAT A DAY !

THE KING HAS ARRIVED ,

KING TIMOTHY SMILES AND

GIVES A BLESSING TO LOVE LANE .

YES , I KNOW IM SHOUTING AGAIN .

SOME THINGS ARE WORTH SHOUTING ABOUT .

IF I HAD A BELL I WOULD RING IT LOUD AND LONG .

MM, PUT THAT ON THE TO DO LIST ,

HANG UP A BELL FOR LOVE LANE .

WHAT CAN BE BETTER THAN A WARM SINCER SMILE ?

DO TELL .

DANCING , SINGING , AND SMILES FROM LOVE LANE .

Thursday morning on Love Lane of Key West , hot July 2 morning with a slight breeze , sun shinning brightly....

The Love of Angora Fordora , as she once sat upon her stool over looking the evening skies , wearing a heart upon her sleve. Wheres the beef ? Fish ? Chicken , o dear dont mention chickens they may come . Amusing to the cats of Love Lane is they are the only ones

who reproduced over the years here ,

until the dreaded snip snip of the Cat killers

came along. Faded memories of little meowings

up and down Love Lane ,

like the setting of the sun faded away.

Mr. Doug has love of his 35 Ford pickup truck

, zooooooooooooom zooooooooooom ,

just fits in the lane ,

after all it was the era of 35 autos when the lane first was paved .

Mr. Doug brings back faded memories

of when real autos came up and down Love Lane ,,,

His love of keeping the beaty lives on , lives on Love Lane.

I LOVE MY TRUCK !

The old home place sitting at the head of Love Lane ,

has seen many come and go .

Over a centry now has come and gone ,

almost two centuries complete since the building in 1839 .

Aww the love of love for love in Love Lane .

She still stands ,

somedays holding on to only sweet memories of days gone by ,

somedays seeing new sites to behold .

The old Indian woman feeding little bitties

out the back door

small portions of bread crumbs and what ever else may be at hand .

She wonders often about love and what it is made of ,

who has it , who hides it . who will find it .

She is not looking for herself mind you

those days are sweetly gone by and put on the top shelf ,

Does she see anyone holding hands ,

a small kiss upon the cheek ,

a giggle a sigh . nope ,

just people in too big of a hurry

for a small quiet lane

on the run faster everday ,

if only ... if only.. if only , they knew love.

The Artish grabbed her brushes and began to paint on the oil tanks ..

Who wants to look at ugly oil tanks in the beauty of a tropical garden , hide them. \

Day after day she painted the flora onto the tanks until she was done .

There she said ,"that will be $2 million please, and thank you very kindly".

Of course she was paid much more . ..the honesty of it all ,

that sure is a lot of hot water and cooking .

Many happy days to you .. on Love Lane .

The Artist wondered about times gone by on Love Lane ,

Who strolled down , who got a kiss, who fell in love .

Seems the ghost of laughter still lingers

and birds still sing ,

as the skys above hold secerts about Love Lane .

Who should come , who should go .

Soon the old Indian woman would come

and smudge with sage and play her flutes ,

maybe Love would return once again .

The Old Woman would appear ,

just shaking her head , its all a dream ,

a dream someone else had and Im in it ,

You are in it . They are in it ..

The plants get watered the chickens get feed.

Pats on the head of cats , walks for the dog Captain .

Things have a order and must be kept flowing

to keep the peace on Love Lane .

Soon like clockwork Bob will come out to the end of Love Lane ,

get into the cab and go to the gym ,

or over to La Te Da,

meet up with his friends for lunch ,

Bob loves to go go go ..

always a sweet greeting throught the window to the OldGal ...

Hes a social butterfly or sorts .

Certianly orders good pizza and shares with the OldGal.

I hate those roosters he cries ,

poopin all over my gate at night ewwwwww ,

sick .. they have to go ..

The much organized party wants to string up the Old Indian woman

and her chickens ,,,,, /

she scoffs , they are not mine they belong to Creator

and He is sharing them with all of us , be kind ,

as she takes the hose and sprays off the chickne shit from Love Lane .

Its the least of

the shit going on ..

at least it can be sprayed away ,

some shit last forever.

Out comes the smudge pot and chants as she goes on about the day ...

Whats not to love on Love Lane.

Magic Jack is back online , quiet on the set .

He blogs again , Above Solaris Hill ,

The old man does not bother him ,

nor does the madone.

The magic happens

as his fingers learn to touch lightly

upon the notebook keyboard ever so

strange to him . just click , just click ,

You will get there from here and from here to there ,

just keep clicking away the day on the balocony

Above Solaris Hill in paradise ...

Paradise with lice and no ice.

The madone shouts about the fucking roosters

upstairs taking over the railings ,

the hose goes wildly spraying the red feather devils ,

he grins a lil grin as they fly over Southard St,

above the heads of mopeders ..

aw missed another one , its a good day .

The old man goes back to bed

grabs his journals

and begins to fill the pages

with his view from the top floor

overlooking the world

from there to here back to there again and again for 33 years now .

His hair lost on top , his nose hangs to the west if he is laying to the east

. Just waiting for the Miller sluts to arrive ,,

O he loves his Miller time.

For the Love of Love on Love Lane

sluts have to have Love too he cries ,

he cries when he is lonely for those Miller sluts ,

its full of pity .

Pity hes not got his sluts on ice ...

hot Miller sluts on a hot summer day .. and life is easy again.

The early morning heat of July sends hot rays of sun throug the east side windows ,

the Old Woman gets up and wonders out to the mail box ,

stepping in chicken shit on the steps ,

time to hose it down ,

tidy up the area ,

do some dishes , fix lunch ,

find the cool shade and relax for a while ..

the Old Man is walking about the top balocony

mumbleing what ever he mumbles .

Just once the Old Gal would like to see someone in Love on Love Lane

stroll by in bliss of happiness ,

its all but faded like decades past .

Like a wilted flower arrangement after a party .

The Old Indian woman talks to the chickens ,

looking for fresh eggs ,

gathers her thoughts of the day

places them in the empty basket where eggs should be .

No eggs today

that damn big bulldozer next door has stopped my hens from laying eggs,,,,

call the lawyers , sue the bastards,

the value of fresh eggs is on the rise ,

good as gold ,

maybe better than.

Nothing is lost, just misplaced .

The flute lays silent for the afternoon ,

evening will come and a tune will sing out to the open skys ,

as she gives thanks to Creator and the city for stopping the bulldozer ..

Poor Maria worried to pieces ,

cats are in hiding ,

roosters came to silence for the heat of the day .,

as the baby chicks cling closely to momma hen hiding for all the non- love of the day.

The Old Indian woman thinks about cornbread for lunch with beans .

Who will walk down Love Lane next ? and Why?

This is paradise ,

chickens and roosters ,

cats ,

flora and aroma ,

the big white puffy clouds doing a rain dance on the horizion ,

waiting for the thunder and summer rains to arrive for the day.

Looking out the window , out to Love Lane.

Sunday mornings on Love Lane ...

A beautiful Sunday morning on Love Lane .

As if by law , the simple quietness takes over on Sunday mornings here .

The few and free roosters and chickens spreading thier love on Love Lane in Key West.

Im not so certain about love of the human kindness toward them ..

So many hate them , detest them ,. regress into fits of anger over the crowing , the shit they leave behind while at rooste up in the trees at nights ..

I collect a few fresh eggs now and again when I can find them , very delicious , thank you very much ,

The old man upstairs screws up his brow , slings words of unkindness towards the old Indian woman .. those are your fucking chickens and roosters , your bought them here. Of course the old Indian woman disagrees .. I love fresh eggs , dont you... O that screwd up face gets a little tighter as he yanks another loose hair out of his old ear ,, declareing she eats her pets now .

No pleaseing some folk no matter what you do .

Fresh eggs a delightful eat and I just saved money.

It boils down to the love of money on Love Lane.

All those millions of dollars invested into property that took a nose dive into reality .

What was is no longer and may never be again.

It somewhat amuses the old Indian woman as if the window she sits next to is a open view into the lives of others .

She feels good about throwing out scraps of food , feeding the chickens and other feathered friends and some with fur that say meow ... O such a kind woman to feed us a few tasty treats . Is it Love . Why should she toss it into a trash can and let it rot , that would be breeding rats and coach roaches , needless to say the stintch between a hot Sunday till Wendesday again till Sunday trash removal . Why waste anything is her motto.

Now the real shit is dropped by those two legged humans who choose to go out and get wasted at the bars and dont care who hears what as they return to thier once million dollar cottages .

O ,,the things she hears out that window ! O,, the things she sees!

The old man upstairs trying to shame her every move and word .. You nosey old woman he scoffs at her .. mind your own damn business .. his words going to the word grave yard death on her ears. Well they make it my business when they so choose to blurt out what ever they wish to be blurting out about . Like most old men he has to have something to bitch and moan and groan about espically when those damn sluts the Millers girls are mere empty memories laying next to the recycle bin .. He cant hit that damn bin no matter what from up top of the balcony even with his glasses sitting half way straight on his crocked nose. Alwasy telling the old Indian woman to put a pipe in it ,, as if she is some kind of plumber ,, well do you see that toilet still sitting out under the shed for four months not installed yet , what will your neighbors think ., put a pipe in that old man. They both shuffle off their separtate ways , him up top on his balcony and she is sitting in the old rocker on front porch , sometimes nothing to say for days ... weeks ... months .... just a discerning looks in their eyes towards one another , the nod of the head ... neither backing down from the silence that is golden.

I love the chickens and the baby chicks and all of the roosters , they belong here ,. free to roam the island as they always have .. not getting drunk and thinking their shit dont stink ... at least they are productive and love to love on Love Lane. Look at all the bugs , what bugs , the fucking bugs you will have once you start getting rid of the chickens and roosters. You assholes !!!

The old Indian woman scuffs back at those who wish to rid the island of the them, our foul feathered friends much better than foul weather friends , those who only really speak to you if something bigger than their wallet can afford suddenly appears ..

Does she see lovers holding hands strolling down Love Lane , nope . Just the usual fuss n hurry up of get going out to the bars , leaving behind them a nice since of quietness for a few hours .. until that dreaded taxi pulls up with drunks spilling out into the lane and all the BLA BLA BALLLLLLLLLS , spewing from their loud mouths , damn they just woke up the freakin rooster from the peace of the night .

Its another day in paradise , who has lice , and ice dont last more than a min.

Cats laying about on the porches , sleeping the days away , too freakin lazy to catch a freakin rat ... waiting for that next bowl of Friskies or that fish the old Indain woman shares with them ... well a can of tuna anyways ...

The house is quiet and peaceful this Sunday morning Above Solaris Hill , opps , that is the name of the old mans Blogspot , Above Solaris Hill . Well he has egged her own to start her own damn blog and leave his alone, so here it is folks , Love Lane of Key West , the very best she can do .

Here I shall post many wonderful Love stories about the Love on Love Lane of Key West .

My grammer is more horrible than my spelling but I dont give a rats ass .

Read it the way you want to , want to spend time correcting the grammer and spelling then I guess you got nothing better to do and was meant to be. Enjoy !

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! O ,the things she sees.