I feel saliva dripping
onto my big toe, as I
rub behind your ears,
You lean in and belch.
We listen for the high-pitched scream of
Petey the Peacock perched on the neighbor’s roof.
Then stare at the Ko’olau and breathe in the pink Plumeria.
Wednesdays are special.
Me,
climbing the ladder
shaving the coconut palm
pruning the Be-Still,
training them into a hedge.
You,
inspecting the heap
smelling the fallen coconuts
chasing the cooing doves,
feasting on your forgotten dinner.
Me,
stuffing the big green bins.
You,
on the wall behind the fence, ears back
as the giant yellow truck hoists the bins high, flipping them open,
swallowing their contents and then farting around the bend.
We match like Hawaiian slippahs, and hang loose,
Aloha, and mahalo,
Kailua sand and boogie board surf.
Me,
Smearing citronella on my arms, your butt, our legs,
relaxing by the fire pit listening to KCCN Hawaiian 105.9.
You,
Alert and sniffing.
Both of us are still playful.
And unleashed in Paradise.
Corney Press 