The bananas in the basket
on top of the refrigerator
give me pleasure
out of all proportion
to what I paid for them.
A little while ago, for the fifth
time today, I remembered
their existence, their perfection.
For the fifth time
I thought “I’ll have a banana!”
it seeming at the moment
the perfect thing to do.
But again the very thought
seemed to complete them, and me,
in a satisfaction which instantly
occluded itself, and I had
no banana. Or, I had
perfect bananas, but ate none.
But this cannot go on indefinitely: I am
getting hungry, and hungry, especially
for a banana. I know they are still
on top of the refrigerator. I have them
clearly in mind. I swear this time I will
eat one, perhaps as many as two. And then
I will probably revert to my former pattern.
This is really
getting the most from one’s bananas,
and is possibly the ideal behavior toward bananas
in the higher synthesis of pleasures.