The Thing About Happiness

The thing about happiness
it always ends up unpacked on a cold night.
On a lonely night,
somewhere short of the
where a bird flies between the stars and the moon.

It is no consequence to the mind, no burden,
the memories of Florida in 1975.

It all still remains,

long after the waves ate up all the sand,

and removed the tiki bar from its foundations.



Filed under History, Outlaw poetry, poetry

2 responses to “The Thing About Happiness

  1. I’m just catching up on your recent poems this morning. I really get a clear picture from this one. I grew up in FL and this reminds me of evenings when I could hear the birds splashing on the lake and crickets, reminds me of the feeling that you’re never as happy as you were there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s