Hanalei									6/89



Just before the one-lane wooden bridge
on the lush far side of Hanalei
we brake hard to avoid a young local
staggering a not quite drunkard's careen
down the double lines of the center strip

my eyes lock on his as we pass
I curve my lips and nod in the way
I have learned it is done here
but his returning glare is no surprise
He has come a long way to obstruct traffic

I imagine him taking a long last drag
on his buddy's stubby joint at the park
and jumping up from the concrete table
the sullen angry talk at an end,
"Eh! I gonna show dose bugga's...

I gonna show 'em..." and lurching off
in the direction of the asphalt
"Eh Milton, calm down, come back..."
"Nah, I goin' walk down da middle
of da fuckin' hiway all da way home"

"Bra, you cannot, day gon' nail you,
Day gon' nail your ass ... fo'get it"
But the kid's beyond hearing words
swept up in the vision of noble defiance
to be made on the sacramental pavement

He must have seen a hundred cars pass
each with its two or three tourists
each of whom were briefly irritated
at having to slow or stop for him
rolling up windows, locking doors

Groundless was their fear though
for he found himself just looking at them
into their eyes, into their souls
What's in there? What do you want?
He had never taken the time to look

No harm meant, lady, or sir
I'm just a tourist on your your highway
and I have come to see your faces
to see why I am dying of coldness
here in my home of Hanalei



						2


I am here to show you myself
that my body is blood and flesh
and that dying means nothing to me
when you have taken my birthright
Oh I'm angry, but I won't smile

I cannot live without this land
its beauty is not your aesthetics
it is my breath, my feet, my hands
the fish are my food, the rain my water
and fifty miles an hour is too fast

you are so greedy, even you nice ones
who dare to face my rage
you sensitive ones who know it all
who bring your shiny boards on cars
and crowd our waves and our sand

you guys are the worst of all
now that you've trashed Maui
your coming over here to trash us
with your pole homes and gates
your Hemmeters and Hyatts

like that concrete monstrosity
on the point down the bay
you built it, you guys with your visas
and your watches and your needs
your boredom is killing me

So our eyes meet briefly
and I drink of his salty mouth
and become his soul, and he mine
and he walks on and we drive
the long gentle road to Poipu.


Out in the bay the surf is dropping
older guys, flabby like me,
have made the long paddle out
to partake in the perfection
of wave and waterfall, wind and cloud

We glimpse a large sunlit swell
I am stroking to reach the pocket
and drop from its feathering crest
control on the edge as the wall collapses
I crouch in the cool grasp of oblivion.