Thursday, June 14, 2001

Ten Unmediated Pleasures

  1. A linen shirt growing smooth beneath a hot iron.
  2. The moment I notice she's kissing me back.
  3. A spider's web, stretched across the casement of my office window.
  4. Feeling my age—and realizing that I would never want to be young again, not for a million fucking dollars.
  5. A small girl on her bicycle.
  6. Panama'd dozing on a park bench at midday, drowsy heat dissolving the knots in my shoulders.
  7. The sound of church bells.
  8. The sight, through a window, of parents and child, standing in grass to their knees, holding hands in a ring.
  9. Geese on the lawn, leading five grey-green goslings like web-footed tennisballs.
  10. Her. And her. And them. And you.

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