(Poem #84)Happiness Why, Dot asks, stuck in the back seat of her sister's two-door, her freckled hand feeling the roof for the right spot to pull her wide self up onto her left, the unarthritic, ankle—why does her sister, coaching outside on her cane, have to make her laugh so, she flops back just as she was, though now looking wistfully out through the restaurant reflected in her back window, she seems bigger, and couldn't possibly mean we should go ahead in without her, she'll be all right, and so when you finally place the pillow behind her back and lift her right out into the sunshine, all four of us are happy, none more than she, who straightens the blossoms on her blouse, says how nice it is to get out once in a while, and then goes in to eat with the greatest delicacy (oh I could never finish all that) and aplomb the complete roast beef dinner with apple crisp and ice cream, just a small scoop. |
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