Key Weird 06; Key Dali Page 14
I tell the cabbie to drop me at the marina. Tim isn’t in his usual spot but I find him on Taco Bob’s boat. They’re both up top looking about as happy as two people can look.
Taco Bob tells me what he knows about Jim and the marina, and they both tell me about the big party.
I’m almost out of money after paying the cab, but I’m walking on air, as it’s a special feeling you get when you leave everyone you know with big smiles on their faces.
I feel a strong sense of completion, but also feel the strong pull of the bus station again. I am uncertain of my course. I am certain, though, that with little money I wouldn’t get far, so since it’s almost that time anyway, I direct my feet towards Mallory Square for the Sunset Celebration.
∨ Key Dali ∧
31
Mallory
By the time I am on my designated spot, the late afternoon sun has been out long enough to dry the ground and warm the sea air. The throngs of vacationers are milling about and gawking and buying and clapping, and who can blame them? It is a most pleasant day indeed, except for possibly one thing that is sticking to the back of my brain like a rusty tack.
But I am on such a high that I am not bothered in the slightest by trivialities like the little fraud dabbing in his awkward way at a canvas on one side of me, and Robert and his dog both yapping at me from the other side.
And even though there is not a woman involved, I am doing some of my best work. My hands fly and pieces of trash are transforming into art as if by magic. I finish my masterpiece with a flurry, to enthusiastic applause. I remain kneeling and look up for the obligatory photos as my ears pick up the soft sound of money floating into my hat and my eyes find a pair of tanned and shapely legs directly in front of me. My eyes continue slowly up and the view remains extremely nice right up to the smiling face of the seashell girl from Duval Street.
“Hey! I’ve been looking for you.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed.” She bends down and whispers in my ear. “That ticket you bought? You won bolita. I looked it up and it was, like, over five hundred that day. You can go by the cigar shop in the morning and pick up your money.”
Searching through pockets for my wallet, I find a pair of long, green socks that go straight into a trashcan. This, along with the sight of the still smiling young lady in front of me, seems to help the rusty tack considerably. I locate and carefully pull my old, weathered wallet from my trousers, and after a little digging, hold up the very ticket.
“This one?”
Her eyes tell me I am a winner, and after I tidy up my artwork and collect my hatful of cash, we walk together down the historic streets of Key West to a big marina party where I am quite sure we will have a very, very good time.
EOF