Aren’t you happy?

[joel]

Aren’t you happy? Happiness disperses, purses
up in labial good-bye encounters, counters
joy with rain without umbrella cover. Cover
up and snuggle in and hunker down; and down-and-
clean-duvet will comfort on the morning mourning
falls upon you like an empty cradle. Cradle
it. Embrace it. Soft forgive it often, often
as you wake alone—a wake and coffin, coffin
and awake—alone again. I ladle, ladle
cups of memories and punch for warning, warning
fighters, fisters, ma’ams and misters: freehand freehand
cancels; nothing’s free for me, but over— over
there is right where write encounters counters’
tallied sums of happiness: prose versus verses.