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I kēlā me kēia mana`o


August 2004

Lost Track By Wayne Higa

We walk everywhere, me and Lloyd.
Into Panaewa, up the streams, even down the ocean.
No need money. We know where get big red crayfish,
catch crab with coconut leaf. Good fun.
Never take water. Always get something – mango,
spoon meat coconut, and if lucky – mountain apple.
And always talk story. I know all his family; he know all mine.

Pretty soon driver’s license, and then

So many of us in ones and twos and groups
Joined up with Mary’s diasporic chorus.
In places strange from home. Played out our verse
Worked out the knots and knurls of twisted lines
and jarring beats, broken strings, dead end streets.
Yet even there
In scenes surreal from home: in solitude of long horizon
on dried out plains, in silence of cobalt space
between softly falling snowflakes.
In the diaphanous grace of memory appears Mary’s lines
Now effortless intertwined with strands
Of ginger leis from earlier steamer days.

Next time I see Lloyd
He get three boys all grown up, one girl all grown up too.
We still good friends me and Lloyd but…
Jet plane so easy come home
But no can make up all the footsteps that fell in between.

So sorry Hawaii . So sorry me.
Just lost track.  

Wayne Higa graduated from Hilo High School (’63.) He lives in Mountlake Terrace, Washington.

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