Girl Amused

By Peter Halstead

Perfect girl, whose face, alas,
Is frozen on my Mai Tai glass,

Forever heading for a hammock,
Locked in motion by ceramic,

Conjured up beneath my thumb
By the miracle of island rum;

Endless sea and orange mist
Always surfing, always missed,

As slack-key evening Trader Vic’s
The hula moon’s mojito mix;

The 1930s, Charlie Chan,
Float around the ceiling fan;

Umbrella toothpicks fade from view:
None to blame but Fu Manchu:

Nothing moves us quite as much
As the girls that we touch,

Except the muses, cool or luscious,
That by accident (or plan) touch us.

Ala Moana State Park, Honolulu
November 26th, 2007