Nice. I sea-drift to Ka'u. Coming up along the southern shore; parallel to the loudest breakers off MacKenzie. Put in at Cook. I remember I like everything about Paulynesia.
Well, except the wholesale violence and sharks trying to eat my friends. (Never say "Eat me!")
Butthay, the coffee's good.
My traveling friend (we discussed) camped on a trail beach below Volcanoes for three days without seeing another person. Or humanoid form. We talked about his Trip for a couple hours; just about the feeling of the place. About what Quiet is and Does.
Oh, why haven't I been back recently? Well that's a fool question. Try poverty and disease, Magellan.
I'm starved for The Sandwich Islands. Famished.
Add famine to the poverty and disease.
They, "The Islands", and their people were good to me. They offered to help. Big Mama arms. What I'd give back, was a tantalizer.
I used to think that way ~ what can I do here. Good. Or just minimal. A brand new native friend at the botanic garden said, "You two should get a piece of the rock. This island needs good people." I punched him and took his pruners.
Sometimes we smell plumeria on the warm watery wind here.
I see bends in the roads, and trails, like slides from a projector. Orange flowered trees; beaugainvillia; silver-tan-khaki eucalypts; tall grass and clouds; ultra sonic birds. Lapping micro wave bays. Whole oceans of mother of pearl at sundown. Calm mornings. Geckos. White and purple orchids.
Papayas a day.
World at Bay.
Kealakekua
and Punalu'u
too ooh.
heh heh. back to work, asshole. |
