A Mango And Four Cigarettes

I went to the store, bought four

cigarettes and a mango....this will

prove anything is the basis for a poem.

I came home, put the mango into the

refrigerator so that later I could slice it

and eat it cold….got me yet?

One of the cigarettes is in my mouth

on fire.  The other three wait in reserve

for the Zulus…am I coming through?

I'm enjoying this picture, whatever it is,

except for the very real compressor filling

the air with noise from next door…

jack-hammering my reverie into random bits….

Rinpoche walking by smiling, saying hello;

David and I frozen in our suits holding 

ice cream cones….

…the first night in Mexico….so strange it

absorbed me.

…the Quinenteneros celebration where I was 

completely out of place but totally accepted…

…so many shards of moments of visions

triggered by a simple action…thus worlds

unfold if we even bother to look at this one.