observing art in my older years i am often
left bewildered . no matter the media i must
search hi and low here and there and even
far and farther in order to find art that imparts
a feeling of pleasure and pleasantness
where are the stories about taking mom for a walk
along the seashore hand in handwhile she tells of
younger years when she would sneak out the house
to go dance the mambo the rhumba and the cha cha cha
or of a day in a secluded forest clearing with drifting
clouds and warm sun above and tall grasses among
wild flowers below where you and marianne toss all
clothing and run and play in the valley of our lord
and where is the well told tale about sheila the clerk
from jakes record shop who is sitting next to you on
a beanbag in your first apartment and the strawberry
alarm clock are on the stereo singing " incense and
peppermint meaningless nouns . turn on tune in
turn your eyes around "
surely there are stories like those out there somewhere
inside of someone waiting to be told . arent there ?
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