i have learned i want
to be happy here
at the middle of life's road.
the late middle. who am i
kidding? upsettingly close
to the end. i have learned
i want to be happy, that is
something. something more
than before, when misery
seemed a sport, the body
so plastic & filled with juice
de vivre that happiness seemed
unseemly. it's like this balloon
bouncing down the sidewalk on a breeze,
a cannonball careening through my ranks?
or just a balloon, its only meaning sorrow
for the kid who lost it, & pleasure
because it's pretty, even though
it's partly deflated, plain white,
a bit dirty. it seems happy,
bouncing on the wind
before it pops.
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