Zen in Waikiki

Of course, everything here is stamped "tourist,"

            But who cares?

Kanaka Maoli still aver:

Hana `i`o ka haole!*

            Whispered in the air.

We've come for romps in the naked surf,

Not to place labels on our fellow man,

However out of place they look,

With pale flesh hanging out of gaudy shorts

            And swim suits newly bought

For sun burns on the beach.

Slack key songs drift across the terrace like sea spay.

            We sip drinks and watch waves break

            Beyond the chatter of guests

            And the peeps of a fairy tern (make a wish,

            Catch a fish).  Fairy tern, Manu-o-Kū,

Bird of Kū, the god of war

Through the fog, find the shore.

Alongside waves of visitors, "money" permeates

            All activities here, where East meets West

            Where Nippon and Amerika co-exist

            Near Pearl Harbor’s corroded hulks,

            Submerged tombs of a scarred past,

            Whose mention was once enough

To justify the prejudice.

*The foreigner does it in earnest!

                        -- C. S. Cholas

                        amongst tourists in Waikiki

                         April 15, 1999