Sundry Pleasures I've Seen

parked in a warm wind Desert canyon, blowing mellow smoke and swapping tall tales with Chris Siens, a fiend with a punching bag, a bong, and a fishing rod,
easy Marionberry pie at a pine highway restaurant,
early teen walks in the damp california redwoods where imagination thrills at the incense of dank moss,
gently catching frogs with my tiny hands by a spring fed Pennsylvania pond,
bare riding a Nubile italian damsel,
a chat with an amiable, goateed cat out raising bread for the trees,
bouncing a mouse-sized ball up to the heights of my grade school's wall
(an Easter gift from my Mom,)
buying a crudely carved frog from a courteous hill tribe chick who caressed her babe son's head so Lovingly,
chilling with an old alabama negro, George by name, listening to Hendrix the bomb,
When I was three, sweetly romping with a rat-sized newfoundland puppy,
(gentle Kahlia, joy of my kiddie years)
Then today, joshing with a good-hearted Starbuck's clerk who smiled so plumply,
and so many more moments of sharing, and flourishing life¦

even now when, to speak dramatically,
Ganesha has had his tromping victory over me,
they still bring joy.