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to what

8/10/2013

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Happiness is
  beer and/or     wine     and/or liquor
  and cigarettes            (if you smoke)    
  after a long hard day of work
  after deciding not to do
  laundry or mop or do yoga or to
                                  go running
  after a crush says "hi"
            and you haven't a clue
            how to push it forward
            'cause your awkward 
                         (this stage is the purest
                                       anyway).
  and having had stimulants   you're just a manic
                                                        ecstatic 
                                                          smile.
  Goddamn pure joy's
  realizing most people try
  and you can help them        
  by being good to yer 
                                            self.

  To someone else, you see, 
  it's happening: 
  obviously they're "different",
  by the way they refuse to be 
  indifferent.
  smiling,          radiates.
They are okay, they are happy,
  they are that cool,
      Honest,
           Let go.

Even more damn happy
  thinking about my mother who 
  always plays by her writing,
  drawing squares with arrows around the words,
  under-lining and over-lining and boxing and returning,
  to the first square, going over it again,
       emboldening the arrow
       over   -   under   -   lining        and
  talking on the phone 
  about a strike-out that should be double underlined
  but only if that which was crossed really belongs 
  considering her friend on the other line's reiterated posit.

Two arrows.
  what does it even mean?  what does it
  all mean                 when you are
  happy?
Infinite arrows.
  a strike-out    turned in-
  to a pair of 
  infinite errors,
  to strike-outs!
  to the fact that                  the word (and the world) remains!
                                                                                 (boxed now, probably)
  (unless you smother                                
   et!)
  can still be un-.             to the booze!
  oh, ho,        steal.         to the muse!
                                 to the guitar!

  to the neighbor who drinks and chats the
                                      ambrosia!

  to the beer bringing hunger!

  so that you 
Make dinner.
  Call it art.  And, browse albums
  where you see
A friend's photo: They have
  a lover by the one
  side,
  and you cry cause you're senti-
  mental.
Until a phone call:
  for porch beers
  but with my dear (though I'm not theirs).  

With them      (all)   
  and conversation

Happiness
is.
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