Mason Jars by the Window

Yes, but beyond happiness what is there? The question has not yet been answered. No great quotations have issued forth From there, we have no still photographs Full of men in fine leather hiking boots, Women with new-cut walking sticks. So yes, it is the realm of thin tigers Prowling, out to earn even more stripes; It is the smell of seven or eight perfumes Not currently available in America. Maybe this is wrong, of course. The place may after all be populated, Or over-populated, with dented trash cans In the streets and news of genital herpes In every smart article in every slick magazine Everywhere in the place. But everybody there smiles— Laughs, even, every time a breath can be caught. This is all true. Beyond happiness, it’s all the same, Things come back to where we are now. Of course maybe this is wrong, But don’t believe it: a happiness exists, All right, I have seen it for myself, Touched it, touched the woman Who with her daughter together keep Ammonia in Mason jars by the side window. They will throw it all in his face God Damn him if he ever comes close again.