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?

Anti-Semitic jerk!

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.