Trying to Get Home

In the forced patience of five o’clock on the H-1 Freeway,

My glance was pulled across the lanes, to an older haole

Man, bent over his steering wheel in a posture of sorrow.

Cradling his shoulders was a bright, multi-floral lei.

He was on his way home from the airport,

Having seen his youngest daughter depart for Seattle.

It was she who gave him the lei, herself

Having too many to take with her at the gate.

He had lingered too long in the terminal after her departure,

Watching her plane leave the runway and vanish

Into the incessant blue over Kaimuki

Where he was now heading through the commuters

Some with their own farewells fastened to the future

Or stored in their pasts. The traffic edged forward

And I lost sight of him as he continued in the direction

Of the horizon over which the sun would rise the next day.