Happy
A sailboat topples.
I am happy.
It sinks.
I am happy.
We escape unharmed.
I am happy.
We climb to shore.
I am happy.
We brush the sand off.
I am happy.
We kiss to remind ourselves we’re alive.
I am really happy.
You hit me because I kiss for too long.
I am still happy.
A car crashes.
I am happy.
It blows up.
I was happy.
We don’t escape unharmed.
Am I happy?
I climb out the window.
I am happy again.
I rub my bruises off.
I am happy.
I cry to remind myself I’m alive.
I am remotely happy.
And also because I can’t fuck you anymore.
I am happy in a troubled kind of way.
A bike flips.
I am happy.
It flipped too much.
I am happy.
My arm is bent in a sick way.
I am trying hard to be happy.
I crawl with my knees to the driveway.
I am kind of happy.
I call for my mom.
I am happy.
She doesn’t come.
I am half happy.
I remember she is dead.
I will always be half happy.
My wheelchair sits alone.
I am happy.
I am laying in bed watching tv.
I am happy but bored.
There are tubes inside me.
I am happy but bored.
And no one comes to visit.
I am happy but bored.
I forget what I wait for, but I wait anyways.
I am happy and impatient.
But waiting is living.
And I realize I really am happy.
And if I wait long enough.
I will always be happy.
