Tourists on the beach at Waikiki

Whose every glance is heightened

By this almost silent sea,

By tomorrow’s flight copied tonight, and


By the way the tropic sun will set

The last time in their lives, the last time here,

Forever pink and tragic (and always wet),

Snap a miracle that won’t appear


For them again, but just on lonely

Roads, in slides, in dreams, in thought,

Where calm like this can only

Really live, in frozen moments caught


By luck, on film, that cannot last

In space, but grow forever in the past.