4 memories that became a poem

there was a summer that i had a visit from the pie-baking philosopher,
we picked blackberries and lamented the inadequate length of our arms,
on the cliffs over the ocean he leapt like a goat and i stumbled like a drunk,
then drowned my telephone in bean salad while trespassing.

there was that night of driving, driving,
undertaken in the dark, i don't know where or why,
but there were many pine trees,
and i sat beside the cosmic ladies man to listen as the wind came,
the trees told us where the wind was until we could feel it for ourselves,
but we were silent and did not rustle like the pines.

there was that day we took green lightning and jostled through suburbs and wastelands and potholes to go to the forest and feel small,
there was a stream that we followed and a path that we lost,
the life there came so thick and wild we couldn't escape its gropes and caresses,
lost in the brush at the feet of giants.

there was that weekend on sombrio beach that was simple and good,
eating soup, watching waves and being naked,
a black bear crossed between me and the crippled bard,
telling us it was time to leave,
and as we walked along the gravelled shore the waves came and came and came.