pianogonzology: Honolulu . . .

Friday, November 27, 2020

Southward bound,

A latte grande on the seat

Between my legs.

All around,

I see the saints,

I see the dregs.

And the byproducts of civilization

Enter, exit from stage left, stage right.

Another monument

To the elusive and mysterious

Honolulu Harry,

The richest man I know.

Honolulu Harry,

The richest man in this life

Or the next.

Through the town,

Sometimes with baggage,

Some without,

Making a livelihood.

Up or down,

Any direction that you choose

And among the fast foods, strip malls and traffic,

There’s that name again as plain as day.

Harry was certainly rich,

But it only was money.

Very few liked him that much.

Now it seems kind of funny.

Just the sound

Of his name spoken with respect

And reverence that’s owed to him,

Brings to mind

Beneficence

Without a peer.

And it warms the heart to think of the thousands

Harry helped, but not while he was here.

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