3,000 Crooked Miles to Honolulu

Invoking the pink & green
gods responsible for this pale
sunlight I could envision a future where
spilling the ritual Santeria beads & talking
trash with a Peruvian beauty
queen who teaches Esperanto
would be my ticket to the wisdom, detachment &
compassion that would come to define my later years

I used to think so

& remember the way the late afternoon light falls thru the
eucalyptus trees on the bluff above the beach
& those pragmatic butterflies

I keep retracing the steps I should have taken
my saltwater credentials tripping the ghost
carefully placing puddles of sand 
in place of memory my rose-colored binoculars wet with rain
& every tree fern seashell morning glory (conspicuously)
from here to the Himalayan orchid you never saw but
once in a dream