Some imagined the Pope
to come in colors of scarlet and pale frost
candlelight mass and those sorts of hues

not the rosy flushed flesh color,
the color of not human deity
and apparently it was a problem.

Speaking of problem—

we used to think of the city as a buzz,
dull clangs of iron rooster calls
tutting through high steel beams
above the highways of cars.
Hustlers in shorts and button-ups
briefcases tucked under breezy aloha shirts
light pitter rain from the mountains
cleaning the train windows over Kapolei

but that’s a flop —

they’ve got to move the prison first
and to do that they’ll have to move the
Animal Quarantine Center from A to D
and to do that! they’ve got to release rabies
into an island of stir-crazy madmen
pumping fist fulls of club music from trucks
at half past midnight over campsites in the West.

And you can’t sit two-by-two
unless you come from the same womb.

Something about a white man
against a white man
both with spittle foaming at the mouth
something about a white man
and a non-white non-man talking about white men
and we’re a week away from deciding
democracy.

But, hopeful, despite
the week-long rain and muggy temps
because south shore swells will rise to mid chest today
and everything else can fade.

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