FOOD POEMS and HUMOR SECTION

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Let me just make a Southernmost Point

We come down to live here
For so many reasons
Some run from anxiety
Some run from cold seasons
I know those who end up here
They survive for a while
But the economy gets them
They go back the 157 miles
The Keys can be the key
That opens a door
They can creep up and bite you
If you’re not prepared for what’s in store
Paradise can be a pair of dice
If you’re not up for the bout
You can hit a home run
You could also strike out
With the montage that we are
You will only blend in
If you believe all have worth
And not committing a sin
This town’s a blessing
If you will let it anoint
I hope I’ve now made
My Southernmost Point

Doug Heyman, Key West, Florida
February 2005