Pleasure

What defines pleasure?  Here in Buffalo, it's simple.  Nature, in a word.  A cardinal spotted from my window- the splash of red against the total cover of green.  Color after such a long winter.

There in Barcelona (my life left behind) pleasure was a constant stimulus of people, new architecture, art, and music.  A walk to the sea past the crowds in motion, a coffee on a terrace, a 3 or 4 course meal in the countryside or on the beach, the breeze off the sea.  A glass of cava- watching bubbles rise up the side of the glass, a mountain hike with the scent of thyme or rosemary with each step, or a nightlife with no end. 

Here apart from nature surrounding I've had to create almost every single stimulus, looking for any inspiration that might lead to a poem or a story.  I understood as soon as I arrived - I exchanged the life of pleasure for one of service.

Here's a poem:

Another Look at Happiness

Not the shock of orange leaves,

autum so bright it hurts,

Not your eyes tight on mine,

the stomach fall of your kiss.

Nor my country, Spain, distant

steeped in red wine and salt,

nor your Burma,

smell of woodsmoke and green,

when you close your eyes.

But this small space within

where solitude cushions

each fearless act.