Tatoo

by Tim Mack 2014

Listen.

There are mysteries that exist in palm trees. The hissing and humming of leaves pulsing from perfumed trade winds, winds that tap and massage over pineappled landscapes as well as dolphin populated waves that lap onto pearled beaches reflecting their majesty from the light of an absolute Pacific moon.

Watch.

A scattered flotilla of clouds sail in front of the glowing goddess without her permission giving the island paradise a ghost like warmth to this haunting spiritual night.

Feel.

I lift my silent, blank body onto the table and without permission give to myself a gift that begins the reimbursement of years of tormented conformity and hated compliance.

Celebrate.

The painting, on my flesh, made with statements and observations, not as a wallflower, but with the intrusive scent of the plumeria and the self anointed, well deserved arrogance of the bird of paradise.

Aloha ohana.

Much, much aloha.

©2014 Tim Mack.