Poem from Cruz The Main Town of St. John USVI:

We cruised among the Virgin Islands on the Rebel Runner, a forty-foot ocean sailing boat. I became part of the crew that sailed it from Halifax, Nova Scotia, to Tortola. It was on my method to Barbados.

We found our path to Cruz, the capital of Saint John, and strolled throgh the village town. It had its share of older hippies spending time in the colorful Caribbean bars where food and alcohol was served in a friendly, most likely state of mind.

We finished the night  at Woodys Bar and Sea Gill. Woody welcomed us with a deep smile and jolly attitude. He was a lot like Woody from the TV show Cheers as he tossed his bottles in the air grabbing many on the fly, pouring drinks and blends with unbelievable velocity and flair. A parrot rested on the shoulder of the girl beside me. She obtained it from a tattoo hippy with a cricket face, smoking like a chimney.

“She was Tanned and wrinkled, we never recognized her name, yet white and tanned and also wrinkled, was searching for a game. We saw her at the bar at Woodys as well as provided her a drink. She minor, well-tanned, as well as fun. She reached be fairly rather as Woody put his dual rum.

It was late when we left Woodys; not many people there. Cruz itself was closing just late-night hangers-on as we walked the weary streets in the capital of Saint John. I put $50 in her hand as she sat alone at the bar. She was down on cash and luck that night, a sample of her life. But for the moment, she was happy that she had met someone who cared.


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