Rubbing sunscreen across my chest I walked through the security gate into the alley that my glamorous Waikiki hostel fronted.
“Wha’chu putting on there, girl?”
I stopped and looked up into the eyes of the homeless man.
“Wha’chu got there? Suntan lotion?”
I wished I’d been applying it on my shoulder or… any body part less sketchy-alleyway-provocative, really. My hair, for example.
He rambled closer, “Can I smell you?”
“No!”
“Can I at least smell your wrists?”
yeahnahutah 