I was in Little Hamaca City Park next to the airport when I realized something was amiss. The homeless were gone. Of course one day with swallows does not a Spring make and conversely a day without residentially challenged people hanging out in the park doesn't mean they've migrated but it kind of looked that way.
I stopped to inspect the park bench where one old guy hung out every day during winter. I brought Rusty here a lot when I was recovering and staying in an apartment nearby. And every day the old dude was sitting at the picnic table staring into space. It looked incredibly boring.
Rusty found nothing to hold his interest and i looked out at the road for a bit and wondered if I should have tried to engage the old guy in conversation. Probably not, not least because it feels to me like an invasion of their (public) space.
The weird thing in Key West is the migratory pattern of many, dare I say most? of the homeless. Summertime and they join the snowbirds in leaving town. I find it rather odd.
Rusty and I wandered around a bit then went further down the park, to a more shady area with a convenient handicapped parking spot.
And lots of inconvenient reminders of the former denizens of the open spaces:
I guess they will be back next inter the hobos. Maybe I should just ask them where they go...