One foot on the ground, I steal
what I love from a wordy wilderness,
I don’t rob banks or make dirty deals,
no pick pocket I steal words, your happiness
without taking away your happiness.
I might name a dog Happy but not Happiness.
I peek in on two lovers tethered,
reading, writing, bathing together,
happy opposites and birds of a feather.
Happiness is tongues playing follow the leader
doing unto others as you
would have others do unto you.
I offer shelter to homeless readers.
I still have my voice but I cannot whistle.
Happiness perks my lips so I can whistle
a tune with Irish propinquity.
The Irish can’t speak a word that is not musical.
Unhappiness has a certain authenticity.
The moon and sun are family,
darkness belongs to you and me,
the day belongs to no one, the night is ours.
I am frightened sometimes, family history:
I’ll be hit by an armchair or bamboo.
I wake up in the morning with nothing to do
feed animals, write, water the flowers.
Now is the glorious spring of my content,
I will settle for sorrow and contentment.
Felicity, how now pretty lady. Happiness
is a Goddess in China, good news in Ghent,
I steal happiness, impossible flying elephant.