Timeline

These days I watch Southern California surfers dressed in suits,

picking up an overcomplicated brew.

A beverage formerly known as coffee.

These days I see connoisseurs sampling brick red Merlot,

Deciphering cinnamon notes,

Outside, a man hit a plastic drum into a groovy frenzy,

reinventing funk music.

His craft dissipating into the sidewalk.

These days artists and peacemakers

are berated while the succinct phrase

and small talk replace conversations.

But then a stroll at 9 AM

with Norwegian bands rifling a jagged melody,

drowns out the noise and changes everything.

These days I feel great, finding that spark in connections.

These days….

Like Maugham wrote in that tome of his

You can’t write about happiness.