I do not want to go to Hawaii.
Always have not wanted to go.
Too dangerous.
Too much sunshine.
Too many pineapples.
Too much sugar cane.
Swaying grass hips.
Sweetness and light.
Too much white silky sand.
Too many waves massaging the beach.
The urge would be to lie down,
drift into the oblivion of paradise,
the flowered-shirt-tiny-bubbles
volcanic lalaland of ukulele sleep.
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In Book 9 of Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus and his men visit the land of the the Lotus-Eaters on their way home to Ithaca
after the conquest of Troy. The Lotus-Eaters were a people who ate the fruit of the lotus plant which made them lethargic
and lose all ambition. The natives fed a few of Odysseus’ sailors the lotus fruit prompting the men to lose their desire to
continue their journey home.