Monday, May 25, 2015

the happy poem

the happy poem

at the breakfast table
i watch your thin pallid face
outlined with bulbous
pipeline curlers
throughout your hair
and notice how your
longest fingernail
creeps up your left nostril
when sometime between the pop
of the toaster
and the ping
of the microwave
you ask me for a happy poem
a poem that will cheer your spirits
if not make you laugh
and i am so completely caught off-guard
while gulping the last grainy remains
of my coffee
that all i can manage to say is
how wonderful life would be
if only the world had ended



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