Margot was aloof and of course
contemptuous. When we didn’t make
those quick, sharp moves,
she’d rolled her eyes.
She’d tried, snorted.
Oh, we are the worm in her apple!
At night she’d lay down smoking
one cigarette after another and
looking at the tin foil moon;
steeled herself thinking
Jesus loves you.
She’d been through lean rigors.
Saving herself up for romance?
Whatever it was she did feel,
Singed by dreams.
So what were your happiest times? My son asked me. Think back and you’d find that those were the periods of new growth. Then usually that came with some disappointments. It’s as if once you’ve gained something you’d also lose a couple other things. Or perhaps it were those years when the future seemed full of promise and you were swanning around carefree and all. But you’d changed when, for instance, you fell in love. To be enthralled with another is perhaps one of those happiest times. Then when you’d gotten to the hard bits, had your heart broken, or whatever it was, you’d figure out the various ways in which you can be happy under your own skin, with whoever you’re with, however your heart dances. Perhaps you’d like to write about real happiness–what’s your theory on that?