I was walking along a Florida beach
when a man approached just to talk.
I’d walked many miles, all the way from
Miami to somewhere north of there.
I’m not sure where I was. The post 9/11
world was fuzzy back then;
And, my mind was just beginning to emerge
from decades of traumatic abuse.
We talked for a while about nothing
but life and the strange times.
Was he an angel? I wonder that still,
for at that time I was struggling on so many levels.
Pennies in my pocket, and not a job
in sight, save an ice cream shop,
whose owner thought I was a Jew
just for having a widow’s peak.
It was true. My father was Jewish,
but that’s beside the point.
What difference does religion make
to ice cream, coffee, and milk shakes?
Back to the angel on the beach…
what was his name? I don’t recall…
He gave me a rock. Just a small, round,
flat sandstone, about the size of a silver dollar.
He said “where I’m from, when someone gives you
a round rock, you put it in your pocket,
and it will turn into money. I think he was right.
After that, my luck changed, though very slowly.
It was among many low points in my life,
all of which I survived with growing strength.
I am comfortably secure these days,
though still quite cautious with money.
And, I still have that rock in my wallet.