Lanikai

An unexpected opportunity came our way before the new year: a family relocating to Seattle requested our home on Airbnb for two months while they looked for a house to buy. Did we want to rent our house for two of the rainiest months of the year? Absolutely. Where did we want to go? We had fun brainstorming options (New Zealand? Mexico? Spain?) before opting for Hawaii where my husband could work early hours and spend the afternoon in the sunshine, my best friend from college lives close by, grandmothers could easily visit, and we could walk barefoot to one of the most beautiful beaches in the world: Lanikai.

After taking two inspiring poetry classes at Hugo House back in autumn, I traveled with two notebooks filled with writing prompts I wanted to explore. I didn't fill all the notebooks, but I did come home with a few poems. Here are two to share a glimpse of our time on the island.

Kailua

~For Frank O’Hara

This is about as far

from your Manhattan as it gets,

But we-can-do-this-

we-can-do-that here too

you know.

We’ll jump out of bed and share

halved papaya with lime on the lanai

and I’ll show you my palm trees.

I’ll tuck a plumeria blossom behind

your ear - you will look

so jaunty. Don’t worry

I’m sure we can find Galoises

somewhere on this island

maybe the Kalapawai Market

though I haven’t smoked in years.

I’ll take you to the Bishop Museum

to see the kapa weavings

and you can talk shop with the curators.

If you want a ukulele I know

just where we can find one.

I’d like to see you in an Aloha shirt,

but I won’t insist.

For lunch a poke sampler

from some counter and we

definitely need to grab fresh malasadas

and more coffee at Agnes’s for dessert.

Later a walk on Lanikai Beach

and a swim. I will introduce you to

some surfer boys and we

can all take naps in the shade

Isn’t this so much better

than Fire Island?

You can escape the crowds here,

let all those painters and

heiresses miss you

just one more day.

An evening paddle -  

have you seen whales before,

dolphins? They will blow

your mind. Then we can drink daiquiris,

(real ones not the syrupy kind) at Buzz’s

and have a few pupus. A

walk back to the house to watch

the moonrise while we

grill Opah and talk-story. You

can read us some new poems and

charm us all. Oh Frank!

You’ll love it.

Arcadia

I had always imagined it as an elegant

country house in Cornwall or Galicia

with a library, extensive gardens and a

long dining table to seat many friends.

But now I think surely it is a small beach house

just like this with plastic buckets, shovels and balls

strewn about the yard, sea kayak and beach

cruisers leaning against the fence, colorful

bathing suits drying on the line. Our children’s

small tanned bodies sleep beneath

ceiling fans after a day in the bright air

running in and out of the ocean. Just down 

the loop, waters a hue of turquoise I can never

fully believe lap sand the exact texture of

brown sugar. Two picturesque islands wait, close 

enough to reach in a fifteen minute paddle. 

Plumeria, jasmine and red hibiscus bloom 

in the garden and we treasure the palm trees. 

Neighbors drop by with avocados, strangers smile,

old friends visit. More than content, we live here

far from the noise of cities. You and I sit beneath

a canopy of stars sipping cold glasses of wine.

We breathe together, happy knowing all this

will be here tomorrow when we wake 

and weeks before we have to leave.