Transitioning today to Waikiki,
we ready for the traffic and the crowd
that gathers at the Cheesecake Factory,
the flares of tiki torches, and the loud
and bass-less music rising from the bars
that perforates the beach like scattershot,
the waves of brand-name stores, the tides of cars
and taxi cabs, the sidewalk polyglot.

It’s called the capital of paradise
but nobody can argue it’s the best,
unless the score depends on mai tai price
and luau shows and time-share talks addressed
to people so commercially confused,
they can’t tell if they’re anxious or amused.