We went to a benefit concert
put on by the Rotary Club.
We could hardly wait to get there.
Island music and Mexican grub!

The night was perfect and balmy
as we carried our folding chairs.
A tent with sparkling lights looked like,
childhood picnics and fairs.

The atmosphere was festive.
Hawaiian shirts galore.
Girls in grass skirts from Hooters
took orders, and old men drank more.

We did our “people watching”
before the daylight was done.
They were young and “changing latitudes”
in nineteen seventy one.

Old Parrot Heads by the hundreds
were dancing and had no worries.
They were twirling in sync while
staying in step from lessons at Arthur Murry.

A lady, somewhere in her sixties
wore a lei and Hawaiian pants suit.
Although she was carrying oxygen,
she was hip and she was cool.

So many white haired ladies,
so many gray haired men.
Could they have been the crowd
that went to his concerts way back then?

They mouthed the words to the songs
“A Pirate Looks at Forty.”
Most are looking at seventy
but enjoying the night’s cavorting.

From the porta-potty came one old man
leaning on his cane.
“Whar are them girls from Hooters?”
I may look it, but I ain’t that lame.

The bands would play until midnight
but people were leaving by nine
to tuck themselves in and dream of youth
and a life of endless sunshine.