Life’s Playing Field
Happy days
are here
again but
nights are
still howling
black pits
of dread.
But are
these truly
happy days
or just
vast expanses
of emptiness?
Is that
what it’s
come to,
that emptiness
can pass
for happiness?
A curse
on those
who have
a certified
name for
this precarious
arrangement of
days & nights,
a curse
on their
fat
well-financed
existence
carved from
the flesh
of the
distant pain
of others.
There never
was happiness
in my life.
There were
upheavals of
ecstasy brought
on by
savage youth
& glimpses
into crevices
of beauty
& surges of
make-believe.
But that’s
all gone
now, a
little trick
that time
plays.
Things grow
jumbled &
night spills
into day
& death
comes on
in a
rising tide
of increments
until it’s
leveled life’s
playing field.
