Wednesday, September 24, 2008

I Look Out With Surprise


at the familiar hillside; I guess I was dreaming of being
somewhere else. Where, though? I'd like to go
back there, I was
happy there and here I am coughing and short of
breath and despite the sunshine and the
friendly greeting of people going by am not exactly
happy. Happy is evidently not happy either; when
I pass her in the hall she`s the exception: once she
told me ''You`re just an old woman with
white hair.¨ True enough and she could say
the same of herself but Hey, Happy¡ Rejoice in it. Look
where you might be instead. Besides, despite being sick I`m having
a lot more fun right now than I was for a lot of years when I was
quite otherwise - busy busy housewife driving around all day in a
car, everybody´s ferry, and smoking up a storm which is what
put me here, in a nursing home but waiting
for a shipment that's on the way of my own
new book, a collection of my own
poetry. I wish my mom
could have lived to see it, and my
sister. Happier than Happy, that's for sure.

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