She discovered soon enough

the course of love doesn’t progress

like her ukulele lessons in ten easy steps.

So, she threw away the slice

of her sister’s wedding cake

that had ruined her pillow and her sleep.

Nothing was easy, not even pie.

It maligned her hopes with the murk

of mincemeat and meringue.

The hula lessons were a grand diversion.

But, just to play it safe, she lined her

grass skirt and lea with barbed wire

to keep the local hula boys at bay.

She meant to land

a bigger fish from a bigger island,

maybe an Aussie from the Outback

hell-bent on backpacking his way

through the continent

from LA to Connecticut, where

he was sure he could secure

a scholarship at Yale, a bloke

with such self-assurance and temerity

that when he threw his boomerang,

he aimed it toward the open sea.