doing one-hundred push-ups while watching
the Italy vs. Belgium game certainly feels good...
barbequing the perfect pork-apple burger
and a fine cut of pork-steak in a smoky marinated
so that it's still juicy... also feels good..
barbequing a perfect corn-on-the-cob...
well... perfection...
what could possibly feel just as good?
having chest-hair... torso hair running through
the stomach...
having a *******'s hand fiddle with the chest-hair...
that has to feel good...
but this one didn't fiddle with the beard...
it feels good to have chest-hair and a woman's
hand running her fingers through it...
it feels even better to have a beard
and have a woman pinch it... tease it...
like it's something more than she would ever
get up to with your little wichard...
it feels good just thinking about this:
without any moral ought-i / ought-i-not that
might plague the moments when
thought fizzles out... and there's this murmur...
where narrative used to be...
the mind is placed in some in situ: ad hoc...
drinking wine while listening to
some Trentemøller (still on fire)...
                    it's getting dark... but i can still make
out the eucalyptus tress at the back of
my garden... and the grapevine: i ask it...
what vintage will you bring me this year?
i neglected you last year...
i'm ready to harvest you this year: though...
i'll buy the yeast, the purifiers everything you need:
let's aim for at least a dozen bottles
of the good juice...
yeah... ****** "things" lodged like embers
in memory... perhaps not a hard-on but certainly
goose-bumps and tingling sensations
as if running like an ancient Roman ****-naked
into nettles... nettles and... subsequently rubbing yourself
with... a mint-extract oil / disinfectant...
one can only be so happy from not having enough
of what one likes...
but as the saying goes:
if you don't have what you'd like:
like what you have
  (jak nie masz czego lubisz:
lub to co masz)....
     well while the second half was being played
i went out for a cigarette...
it's still fresh...
seeing a kestrel reign in the sky above my house...
hovering swooning in, swooping...
you know a bird of prey is flying
when... you don't see any other birds...
this one was... hunting a large insect...
and he did catch it... mid-flight snack...
oh i'm pretty sure all the sparrows were huddles
in some bush having a hush-hush debate...
life can be this...
   it has to be: this least...
     anything more and i'll count myself
a millionaire...
but then again:
you can't spend money on certain things...
          so that's that.