Color My Missives

Sure there is the white sand and the threat of falling coconuts. There are even pillow-shaped clouds and enough Germans and Cubans speaking their languages to their children to feel as if the United States is some distant place. But when the Southernmost point in the continental United States is within walking distance, […]

Last night The Green Parrot resembled the words “southern bar” exactly. There was a blues band from Mississippi laying down the licks deep into the night, and the bartenders poured cold Bud Light into go-cups upon request.

“Save some of that for the keys,” he said after he saw the cameraphone. A bright sun smile, and a Carribean lilt to go along with it.

If there is a way to be more bad-ass than a butcher in chinatown, it is probably illegal.