New York Panorama

Life in Manhattan through the eyes of an Englishman

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Endorphin High.

The sun caresses my neck.
Azure blue, the sky is magic.
Women in the street are beautiful and sexy.

The mosque reaches to the blue,
its minaret pointing to heaven.
An antenna seeking signals from the void.

My simple food's a feast,
teasing my tongue with its flavor.
Pleasing me even in it's color and its form.

I listen to a favorite piece
and find a new intensity of joy.
Nuances missed in music I know by heart.

My cheap wine is luscious.
I swill it in my mouth and marvel,
watching how it wets the glass that way.

Where is it from, this rush,
perhaps the medication? If so I know
why athletes risk career and reputation.

Endorphin high, I pass the day
hoping that the mood might last,
or that I've found a trick the Buddha knew.

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