My Happiness

I’m carrying a cake over a rope bridge.

The cake represents my happiness,

piled high in whipped cream.

I’m standing in the road with a sheet of glass.

My happiness is hard to see until

you spot your own reflection.

Now I’m dancing with an antique porcelain vase on my head.

I’m pronouncing it vahs.

My happiness is priceless and

its provenance well-documented.

Watch me dance with it on a bed of marbles.

Watch me dance with it on the pool

apron until you laugh and push me in.

How long can I count on this incredible luck?

Whenever I jump off a balcony,

I land on soft, forgiving garbage,

representing my happiness.

Every time I stack my happy oranges

in a happy pyramid on my happy fruit-cart

the high speed chase takes another route.

When we tango across the living room,

I follow your lead with wastebaskets on both feet

and a tablecloth tucked into my waistband.

I don’t take this all for granted.

I always count my blessings

as I juggle them

over an open grate.

It takes my mind off the anvil

on the windowsill

and what it represents.

Keeps it on your smile,

a flaming sword

at the top of its arc.