The Blue Grass Trailer Park
The Blue Grass Trailer Park. A crowded court
where sis and I grew up; played in the sand.
Where summers were a hopscotch and cavort
while list’ning to the sound of Dorsey’s band.
Our home a cosy space for count of five.
A closet kitchen with three rooms beside.
A paneled, sandy floor where roaches hide
a mile from beach where royal palms reside.
My Daddy moved us here in Forty-Four
and we were those who lived across the tracks
from Mar-A-Lago glamour I adore.
That bridge too far was minutes from our shack.
The Blue Grass Trailer Park: life still a thrill
so close to other worlds that are surreal.