RV'cape

RV Resorts – not the camping life expected. A densely populated, highly compacted RV’cape of American and Boston Redsox flags, petunias, clothes lines filled with ubiquitous beach towels, cheap patio furniture on concrete slabs covered with pine needles, mutli-colored plastic lanterns strung between scrub oaks and pines, and speed bumps every fifty feet. Reminds me of Santa Cruz, except the after age of the residents in this, let’s be honest "trailer park" is fourteen. Kids with their big helmets cocked on the back of their little heads are everywhere.

Sigh. I am afraid I am going to make a long list of book stores with little interest in my book.

I have retreated to my concrete pad, weathered gray picnic table, the sounds of the wind in the pine needles above me and a tantrum throwing baby across the street. Rejection from the Hyannis Farmer’s Market, a non-existing Chatham market and no word from the Cape Cod Times or the Cape Codder. Maybe, I’ll lounge by the pool tomorrow after I try to crash the Hyannis Farmers Market. Will they arrest me? Now the headlines might stir interest in The Last Voyage of the Cosmic Muffin.