A tribe of sunset headed guys 
most of us overweight 
and out of shape 

striding through Honolulu Airport 
in various lopes and waggles 
dragging wheeled luggage 

pulling the past along 
in travel duds 
baggy zippy rumpled 
loudly decorated 
        polywhosis 

sporting clever shoes 
and that determined dogged look 
Marching toward the tropics 

and then I thought 
We are in shape; it’s just 
not that younger shape, 
tight and taut. It’s 

the shape of now, 
when the body’s started 
its subtle stumble toward 
a less demanding 
gravity 

The world is looking different 
because it is—

I mean, there is no reckoning 
past a certain point

I mean, Aloha!