Spending the odd hour in our five-and-ten,
suffering small change, small talk, to be made
on your account: oh, are you happy then?
at our lunchcounter, where pale lemonade
maelstroms swirl in crystal hulls, and jade-
green pickle slices sulk in the relish jar?
Around the rotisserie, hot dogs parade.
Say you are happy as you are.
Sharp pleasure of a pencil! joy of a pen!
ecstasy of a writing pad! purveyed
to starving sensibilities, like oxygen
at the top of Pike's Peak. Is it a fair trade?
We stationery salesladies barricade
ourselves against your terrible savoir
faire. You toss our plea back, a live hand-grenade:
"Say you are happy as you are."
No. That time is passing, citizen.
From nine to five we strop the razorblade
of care, and if time nicks nice gentlemen
our styptic pencils stop their blood's cascade.
The bookkeeper is coming, postage-paid,
wrapped in brown paper like the evening star,
to clear the registers; you, undismayed,
say you are happy as you are.
Invitation
Goodtimes, out of your element, come to our masquerade
when all the lights are out in our bazaar,
and you shall see your shadow, making its charade
say you are happy, as you are.
YOU ARE READING
Teaching the Rocks to Swim: 2012 Attys Entry by Lee Rudolph
PoetryTen formal poems, collected into an entry for the Attys contest.
