Wake-Up Walk

An early a. m. walk
in Kohala
And I'm rabbit-aware
of the world

Sniff the warm air
at every bend in the breeze
Blossoms of plumeria
plummet to the ground

Their perfume riding on airwaves
As intrinsically as seaweed
floats in the adjacent ocean

Engendering an animation
unmatched by the upcoming cup
of Kona coffee

Alone in Barcelona

I was forewarned
about Barcelonian bandits
Who specialize
in stick-up artistry
that rivals the genius
in Picasso gallery
and Gaudí buildings

And I'm pilfered
not by pickpockets
But by an ugly
American complex
that steals my security
and stalks Catalanian words
Tyrant talk refusing
to recognize any English
and fueling fear that I can't function

Forfeiture of control catapults
me into a quiet of inner language
A foreign hum honing
skills of other senses
Mute magnification of goat heads
in heat of open air markets

Cooled by skin kiss of mist
from Miró's mosaic fountain
Perfume potent scents
from Ramblas street flower stands
And paella taste bud explosions
that parallel fireworks' color
in flamenco dance costumes

The steps and guitar sounds
needing no translation
All overpowered perceptions
from a universal language
Instruction in independence
that pack-rats tourist trepidation
Leaving trust in my own company
And gratitude to be victimized
by such cross cultural crime