slept ok in seaside luxury except
for being woken
occasionally by a booming rogue wave, and then
one was kept up savoring the stench of dead flesh
emanating from the rotting maggot-infested deer
carcass left behind by blundering hunters. we had
three options: bury; burn in place; throw into sea.
john took initiative
3, roped a leg and dragged it,
whereupon it tore in half. undeterred, he hauled
out the other half, too, and finally scooped up
a shovel load of indistinct biological matter.
that out of the way, we drank coffee, john
played guitar, and we got to know terry
from calgary, a heckuva singer with
impressive improv abilities. in the
afternoon, meg and pete paid a visit, a
considerable detour on their way from
OGG to Napili, but it was worth it for
meg, who has a love feeling
king tut is not averse
to the camera,
sat regally poised, posing for long
exposure portraits lit by a lantern.
john showed us long range drone
videos he shot along the coast; they
were gorgeous and he's so meticulous
one couldn't tell he'd added crashing wave
sounds to what was originally silent footage.
we moved our tent out of the aroma zone and
leaned back in chairs, filled our eyes with stars.