From the naval base at Mayport,near Jacksonville,
our uniforms folded,we boarded the Greyhoud,
me and a couple of mates,restless with youth,
chasing warmth,chasing something unnamed.

The road stretched through flatlands and memory,
until Fort Lauderdale rose like a promise-
its salt air soft as a whisper,
the ocean catching light like a secret.

The Holiday Inn stood by the shore,
a simple place but to us,a palace-
each room a haven of laughter and clean sheets,
each evening a doorway to something new.

We met students with sun in their hair,
laughter that tangled wit ours in the humid air,
we shared stories that floated like driftwood
and vanished by morning without regret.

There were no clocks in those nights
--
only the hush of waves,
the cling of glasses,
the sudden closeness of strangers.

Something changed in me there,
in that easy paradise
between duty and desire,
between who I was and who I might become.

We returned to Jacksonville,
the naval base waiting like a stern father,
but I carried Fort Lauderdale inside me-
the Holiday Inn like a poem folded in my pocket,
the Greyhound a ribbon tying me
to the first time the world felt wide and mine.