driving to hawaii
Based off of the lyrics of the song “Driving to Hawaii” by Summer Salt
By: Meghan Coley
“Let’s drive to Hawaii,” he said.
“We can’t drive to Hawaii,” she said.
“Well, why not?” he asked.
“Because we can’t drive across the ocean,” she answered.
The girl was a realist. But that didn’t keep her lover’s suggestion to leave town from sounding appealing. Escaping sounded like an adventure.
“Well if we can’t drive there, can we at least dream about it?” the boy asked.
The boy was a dreamer. He had his arms around the girl.
“Sure.” She had hesitated.
“If we were in Hawaii, things would be easier. Definitely.” He added the last word quickly. Like confirmation.
The boy was thinking of the bottles of whiskey in his father’s cellar, the bottles his mother didn’t know about.
The girl was thinking about where her father might be.
“Life would be easier,” the girl murmured. His arms were still around her. The bed underneath them could be the sand of a beach.
“It would be sunny all the time. We could be outside everyday,” the boy said.
He was thinking of sunshine. She was thinking about California and how the sunshine there might attract fathers who didn’t want to be fathers anymore.
“The sun is shining right now.” The boy lifted his head. The girl was already looking out the window. There was light.
“Then I guess we don’t need Hawaii,” the boy said.
“We can make Hawaii here.” The girl said it quietly.
“You can be my Hawaii.” The boy said it quietly.
But you can’t. Her eyes said it. Her mouth didn’t need to move.
“But I can’t,” the boy said.
There aren’t cellars full of alcohol in Hawaii. There aren’t overwhelming responsibilities.
There aren’t fathers who can’t look after sons and daughters. There is only nice weather, surfing, and long hair. That’s all there is to it. You needn't have actually been there. That’s just the way it is.
“Are you sure we can’t drive to Hawaii?”
By: Meghan Coley
“Let’s drive to Hawaii,” he said.
“We can’t drive to Hawaii,” she said.
“Well, why not?” he asked.
“Because we can’t drive across the ocean,” she answered.
The girl was a realist. But that didn’t keep her lover’s suggestion to leave town from sounding appealing. Escaping sounded like an adventure.
“Well if we can’t drive there, can we at least dream about it?” the boy asked.
The boy was a dreamer. He had his arms around the girl.
“Sure.” She had hesitated.
“If we were in Hawaii, things would be easier. Definitely.” He added the last word quickly. Like confirmation.
The boy was thinking of the bottles of whiskey in his father’s cellar, the bottles his mother didn’t know about.
The girl was thinking about where her father might be.
“Life would be easier,” the girl murmured. His arms were still around her. The bed underneath them could be the sand of a beach.
“It would be sunny all the time. We could be outside everyday,” the boy said.
He was thinking of sunshine. She was thinking about California and how the sunshine there might attract fathers who didn’t want to be fathers anymore.
“The sun is shining right now.” The boy lifted his head. The girl was already looking out the window. There was light.
“Then I guess we don’t need Hawaii,” the boy said.
“We can make Hawaii here.” The girl said it quietly.
“You can be my Hawaii.” The boy said it quietly.
But you can’t. Her eyes said it. Her mouth didn’t need to move.
“But I can’t,” the boy said.
There aren’t cellars full of alcohol in Hawaii. There aren’t overwhelming responsibilities.
There aren’t fathers who can’t look after sons and daughters. There is only nice weather, surfing, and long hair. That’s all there is to it. You needn't have actually been there. That’s just the way it is.
“Are you sure we can’t drive to Hawaii?”
All Text Copyright (C) 2023 Meghan Coley