THE LANGUAGE OF HAPPINESS

is not present if there has been a change of partners

(there has been no change of partners)

is the house with a notice taped to the door

& abandoned glow-in-the-dark stars still adhered

to the foreclosed ceiling & the developer

says it will never sell—the basement has been

condemned, did you see the exposed rebar?

The language of happiness

is an inherently inwardly focused experience

is a private affair

is the new black

because my mother went

to the shrouded grave of the Rebbe

& Jesus loves my body like

an empty plastic egg that breaks

in half at the waist waiting to be filled

with small gifts (if we were lying

we’d clap our mouths) I’m just

not telling you everything

youbetterbelieve & blessyourheart

is always stressful,

this language of happiness

is wrecking our friendship

(you’re pregnant)

is hectic: I drive the highway

& drive the highway & drive

the highway—you get the picture—

& wait for a woman to say my name

in the waiting room of the language

of happiness we are engaged in collusion

to solve a common problem that is often

quickly treatable, a condition of the [inexplicable]

that impairs conception

the language of happiness is not bracketed—

three unprotected years of nature & then some

for a common problem, a system, an inability

despite an act of love strongly associated

with a body, dear body, can you be

a speeding cab that stops to pick up

a passenger, even if you’re off duty?

The driver is on his cell phone again.

We’re on the West Side Highway, body,

& behind those lit windows people

are folding & folding & folding

themselves in half like paper.

O fortune teller. O future.