Fort Lauderdale Sunset

I stepped outside at half past six and looked to the west. In the distance, Wilton Manors was turning on its festive Friday night lights. Nearby, the sound of Miles Davis drifted up like sweet smoke from someone's yacht, and I can clearly follow the conversations of Canadians walking home from the beach on the sidewalk many stories below, their soft voices running up the walls of this stuccoed slab.   I wonder if they can hear my "Bon soir". I don't think this aural canyoning works in reverse. Still eighty-two degrees and probably won't drop much. Red sky at night, sailors' delight.