Sometimes, joy will find you
when you least expect it.
It only lasts for a passing moment,
just like the ecstasy of orgasm.
You can be washing your car,
mowing the lawn, or watching an ant
cross the street with a load
on its aching back.
Joy is when my heart is singing—
like the pleasure of taking a sip
of a vintage friendship.
Or there’s nothing more enjoyable than
a body surf in the warm waters
of Acapulco. If that ain’t joy,
then I don’t know what is.
Happiness speaks in a silent language.
The older I get the more I look forward
to the sweetness of my one and only next breath.
Pure joy—Thank you,
whoever that might be,
grateful, I didn’t turn out to be an ant.