Crying in paradise

The MC was making all the newlyweds stand
and I was fine,
even when he proclaimed that the whole audience had to say "honi honi" together, which means kiss.
The snickers came in a flood and it was pointed
out for those who missed it
that "honi honi" comes before the wedding and "horny horny" comes after.

Then Mr. MC made those celebrating an anniversary of 25 years or more stand
and suddenly I couldn't stop crying.
It was a crazy eye storm that ravaged my face and had some 5o year old tourists in flip flops and flowered mumus asking me if "Everything is okay".
"Yes" I explain, very unconvincingly as I shake at the shoulders and blow my nose.

I went back out to watch the Hula girls float in grass skirts.
I wondered how they got so beautiful.
They were as perfect as the flowers in their hair.
I want to dance the hula.
The good ones train in the ocean with sand bags on their feet.
They dance on their toes.

In my dreams that night I married a Samoan man.
He had me climb his shoulders like a mountain.
his face was wide and his skin was shimmery like eyeshadow.
We had little Japanese baby girls that came out riding surf boards.
He climbed coconut trees and cooked fresh fish, and I made leis from the garden.
The sun was on my face and my belly felt full.

Chicago has been mean to me.
I am trying to forgive her.
When my flight got back into the airport on Wednesday, it was grey and raining.
It's like Chicago doesn't even want to make up.