pleasure is not comfortable

A little bit ago I posted to facebook: “Pleasure is not always comfortable.”
And I got two comments back: “Explain?”
So now that I have some time…
sometimes, pleasure is comfortable.
The stress melts away and your nervous system takes off
for the beach
with a little umbrella.
The sympathetic responses calm down.
You breathe easy.
Life is good.
Sometimes, though,
it’s not like that.
Sometimes it’s more like…
Or jumping into a cold mountain stream.
It’s like waking up to your favorite dog licking your face
or a fuck that feels like a steam train.
Sometimes pleasure is a roller coaster,
or jumping off a cliff to see if you can, in fact,
Pleasure is accomplishing something you didn’t think you could do,
or learning to pole dance with a baby belly,
or figuring out that skinny dipping might be okay,
or talking to that twinkle-eyed person serving tea or tennis balls or time.
Pleasure is making uncomfortable art and sharing it,
or climbing over a chain link fence after getting locked into the garden
because it was such a nice night
and the gnats weren’t bad until the end.
Pleasure is eating bad food in good company
or eating something that you don’t even recognize in a country where you don’t speak the language,
or saying I love you first.
Or saying it at all.
It might be comfortable.
But just as likely
you’re on the skinny branches.
The stars are beautiful out there.