Aruba

We watched Steve play craps last night; he said we brought him luck.
Now we sat at the hotel breakfast table.
Gloria, Irv, Nancy, Steve, Sharon, Me.
Introductions concluded. New friends made.
Bagels buttered.
Sunshine poured down over the Caribbean. Divi-divi trees twisted southwesterly.
""Where are you from?""
""Union."" ""Hillsborough."" ""West Orange.""
“West Orange?” Irv queried.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I have a cousin who lives there.” Irv announced. “Dorothy Goldberg.”
“That’s my mother!”