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No Pineapples in Chicago
In Hawaii there are sundresses and there are waves and there are books to read and there is music to dance to and flip flops that hit my feet when I run and it is warm and I feel the sun on my shoulders.
In Hawaii there is swimming with flippers and falling asleep in the sun and plugging my nose to jump in the pool and there is looking for the shiny back off a whale and it is warm and I feel the sun on my shoulders.
In Hawaii there is warm rain that drips off wide umbrellas and there are rainbows and sand between my toes and running barefoot on grass and there is the humuhumunukunukuapua'a and it is warm and I feel the sun on my shoulders
In Hawaii there are people with smiles and there is "aloha" and there is "mahalo" and banana chocolate chip pancakes and there are pineapples. There are so many pineapples.
In Chicago it is cold, and the wind smacks my face.
It never stung my cheeks before I felt the sun on my shoulders.
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This piece is inspired by the feeling of longing. I live in Chicago, and by no means do I dislike it. But after I visited Hawaii over Christmas, where it was warm and I was relaxed and happy, I was sad to be home where it was cold and stressful. I almost felt unwelcome, which is why I chose pineapples, a symbol of welcoming, for the poem.