“Stand on the corner,
you depressed bastard,
and wait. If you signal for it
joy will find you, certainly.
Certainly it’s only missing you
because you’ve made yourself
so small. It’s as if you’ve shrunk
from what normal looks like.
Stick a hand up, make yourself
bigger, you sad beggar, and
call joy to you. It’s not like
it’s going to come without that.
It’s not like you should expect it.
You, depressed. You, stunted.
You, the one who won’t do
what you’re supposed to do
under illusion that this is not
under your control — call up
joy like a taxi
and get on board…”
so I did, and when I did
it missed me. Drove right by
and I nearly drowned
in the puddle it almost splashed dry.
You know what? My arm is still up.
I’m still waiting — soaked through
but still hanging on for joy — though
God only knows why.
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