Episode 135: Downtown

When was I happy last?
I don't know - let me see.
Was it in that room in the past,
That peeped into the marriage hall by the tree?

Perhaps I was happy then;
I would get home from work,
And just sit in that pen-
It never felt like clockwork.

The walls did sweat,
And wore the same suit for 32 years.
The tailor refused to stitch a new set,
But made holes to siphon off tears.

Water visited us for three hours,
And then decided to leave in two.
But then-just as a relationship sours-
Her minutes dwindled down to thirty-two.

We had an attic that climbed the wall.
We sent her guests-rags, tins, and bags.
And she served dust and entertained them all

The panes flew out one day.
The mosaics ran away.
The antenna was yanked off.
And the TV shut down for days.
 
A throat was caught.
Tears were shed.
And the bitter and sweet fought.
Slaps were brought,
And cheeks with it fed-
A recipe I was taught.

But it seems we were happy there;
We have no idea why.
Perhaps it was simpler there than elsewhere,
To breathe and watch the birds fly by.