Surfer Cake

[Editors' note: This is the first in a series of posts that recognizes the runners up of the third annual creative competition sponsored by Kauai Backstory. This year's theme: Surf. Congratulations everyone.]

by Laurie Barton

Then I snuck into the kitchen of the condo

and plundered the cake, waves of blue frosting

that tickled a white foam sea, the plastic palm

trees almost real if I squinted so that Happy

Birthday Kimo read like petroglyphs at Waiopili

stream. Jim had removed the toy surfer, licked

smudges of blue from its surfboard, stashed it away.

How I would argue with him at Lihue not to bring

that extra bag of golf tees, cake candles, those empty

cans of board-wax. How close I would come to telling

him, I don't love you. After my knife slipped through

the sea, cool frosting gave my teeth such a shiver that I

could not wish or remember, nor feel anything but

the rush of sugar, fingers mashing the blue. Then I

pictured Cook sailing into Waimea, greeted by men

on koa boards, welcoming Lono. Those giant swells

pushing them up, teasing them to prove their ocean

skill. Only ali'i allowed to ride, each one snug in his

place, known for it, hailed. In the morning I would

catch a plane, look down at the waves. Wish for a

village, breadfruit and chanting, a glide to my shore

with friends waiting.