"Mom," Lani hissed through her teeth. "I'm in Woolworth's." But Ruby kept singing, Hawai'i pono'i, nana i kou too'i, kalani all'i, Ke all'i, and Lani felt her feet begin to move over the cracked linoleum of the floor, the rough soles of her feet beginning to speak to the piece of earth beneath her. Sometimes when Ruby showed up, she was fat and drunk the way she'd been at the end, but usually she was young and slim in a holoku with a plumeria behind her ear and a pikake lei, ready to dance at one of the hotels in Waikiki, her hula like the curl of a wave on a moonlit night, with the Milky Way strung over the heavens like the tiara of some giant goddess who ruled Hawai'i before the haoles came with their boatloads of blue eyes and syphillis.
Who needs Santa when you’ve got nana shirt
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