"If it ain't broke, don't
fix it,"
they say.
'Cuz broke hurts. Like
a bag of bones tossed
over the front of a Huffy, or misplaced skin left
on pavement as payment for speed,
a dismissed
heart, or bank
statements.
"Money can't buy happiness,"
is true, but
like a child denied hugs the lack
can sure fuck things up.
"I would rather be happy
and poor, than miserable and rich."
But
I'd be happy
to give happy and rich a try.
"You can't take it with you,"
but
you also can't re-eat a perfect steak,
or re-kiss a first kiss,
or re-see your first sunset.
Sometimes I want a little right now
in my life.
Not very Zen
Buddah, with
his jolly elf face and great
golden belly. That richness
comes from breath and perspective, but
somedays
I don't want to study for the test, or
back down from the anger flecked spittle
in my face,
or R-E-L-A-X. Thanks
anyway Mr. Rogers.
When the kitchen light flickers, and
the goddamned roaches are at it, and
my back acts like an asshole, and
the isolation grows into a black cape covering the horizon,
I don't want
my higher self. I just want
ease. To have the load lifted high.
Let Atlas shoulder the world.
And yet, maybe
despite my desire to spite myself,
I look around.
At love,
at children, at another broken pair of glasses
that will have to be fixed or replaced,
and I'll be repaid with a huge hug and
a thank you more sincere than I could muster
for a winning lottery ticket.
At thousands of little joys around me
like ants that I battle on the reg
because my youngest eats Pop-Tarts like a wood chipper
and spreads the crumbs like he's Johnny fucking Appleseed!!
And he smiles like he invented the smile.
I love my life.
Because no matter what they say, broke
isn't destroyed. And if you're lucky,
broke can be repurposed into something
beautiful
