Waianae Coast

tent walls wildly flap

trying to take flight

follow the trades

salty ocean smell

lingers in the air

rusted broken beach chair

monument to better times

two hundred feet

to the showers

and fresh clean water

gas stove on low

simmering chicken long rice soup

more rice less chicken

to last for three meals

tent bursting with stuff

with more crammed

inside the beat-up old Camry

reminders of the time

before all was lost

when life was still good

when home had a door

now the Waianae coast

is home