Unfortunately Untitled Poem

I was surprised
at all the things that
did not surprise me
in Hawaii.

The mountains,
so obviously wise
usher valley streams,
cold and pure,
into the ocean.
Yes, yes.
The fact that there are fruits borne of aliens,
rollenia
soursop
jackfruit,
sticky swollen mangos littering the June streets,
wet and muddy pig trails drawing treasure maps
to waterfalls--

It’s like I’d seen them all before.

But I had never seen anything
like Belly Acres,
land with leaves bigger than children,
happy people
working the dirt
living in wooden cabins
painted reds and oily blues only an artist can find,
chipped white murals yellowed
from admiring stares over 30 years.
At sunset shiny people
gather in the communal kitchen
sweaty and hungry,
skin hot and ripened brown,
and lazily offer
scoops of power food,
prepared with the secret of how to cook it.
I was jealous I was not a very good cook.
A true fairy, younger than me
led us around by her chocolate chip
hair and carried a blue
bottle of water,
purified with Love.

This was like a dream I’d forgotten.

Then at Cinderland,
20 people who did not work
but sang songs, read books,
dreamed about when the world will
turn inside out,
and shared everything.
Who did not mind the cold water
or having nowhere to go
but the kitchen, thankful
and quiet
against the roar of the rain,
the air thick and sleepy.
And who hovered,
no matter how sunny outside,
like flies around the fire pit
hungry for each other,
rolling endless American Spirit cigarettes from
red packages, blue packages, one time black.
Who reflectively drummed the heavy rhythms
of the kids’ feet
and drank wine in warm pools
at midnight.
Who met God
amongst waves,
and lovers
around flames.
Who chanted, danced, cooked--
set the table--
planted, picked, prayed.
Sometimes the garden gave way
Sometimes it did not.
Sometimes there were cherry tomatoes
and green leaves for lunch,
but always too many hot peppers,
thick bushes of fire red, orange, and yellow.
Always morning papaya,
for they fruit young
and often.
Bananas, avocados, and coconuts
were gathered on Fridays,
for they were work.
Who, naughty and laughing,
hunted private lands
for vibrant fruits to feed the family.