Pleasant Respite

Momentary pleasant respite from the damp dark

seriousness of it all, the world, you know?

Why not? 

I can only hold my breath for so long.

I’m back in the Sixties anyway, you know,

that time when we all believed 

in the myth of freedom.

You had to be there. 

(That’s what they said of the Renaissance).

Anyway,

I’m here listening to Byrds raga style rock

same as I listened to fifty years ago, but fresh

experience, like fresh bread because fresh

experience, fresh air waves, quantum splendor.

Might as well could have been. 

Nerves fresh snapping like fingers to a beat that

keeps going on like

Cassidy on curvy mountain highway or words 

here now oops gone! Next! Garçon! Has the life

I ordered arrived? 

Wrote a song about it.

Wanna hear it?

Goes like this: