Small Pleasures

By Matthew Peluso

Soft, warm winter mornings on the Key Enjoying a café con leche and empanada de carne Followed by a fresh, hand-rolled cigarillo Just bought on Calle Ocho the day before Leaning on a shelf at my favorite local bodega Listening to Celia Cruz coming from a small Ancient radio stuck between photos of Pope John Paul II Draped in rosary beads and a black-and-white of Luis Tiant Watching my young kids letting out of school early on a snow-day Their laughing, slipping, snowball throwing awkwardness While I wait curbside, in line, with the buses, per pick-up protocol The pleasure of winter fun and play that awaits their day ahead Trying to vicariously share their innocent joy in the accumulation But gladly resigned to failure caused by the weight of experience And deference to their complete and sole ownership of the moment Sitting in an Adirondack on the wrap-around porch of an old-house Early spring morning, with the sounds of a soft, misty rain Gently tapping on the overhang, and moistening hungry, young buds Nestled deep in my favorite broke-in, plaid-lined denim jacket A hot cup of strong, black coffee on the armrest, steam slowly rising Re-reading a favorite novel that always confirms how the very few Can capture the complexity of existence with extraordinary insight

Matthew Peluso is a civil rights attorney and poet, whose work is inspired by the discriminated and marginalized people he represents. He has a B.A. in Philosophy from George Washington University and a J.D. from the University of Miami School of Law. His poems have appeared in the Opiate Magazine, Global Poemic, Roanoke Review, Waterways: Poetry In The Mainstream, the Wilderness House Literary Review and Stoneboat Literary Journal.

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