Happy Harbour

Happy Harbour

Sputtering life,
like an ant farm —
only more chaotic,
and hotter in the summer,
so much hotter
you swear you’ll dry out.

And colder in the winter,
so much colder
you swear your heart will freeze
and stop beating.

Clouds of blossoms
floating over
crowds of people
swarming through
holey streets,
all heading to the same place
at the same time —
like lemmings who know it’ll hurt,
and still hurry to arrive.

Proud to be there —
to be where
no one else wants to be.
Paying high prices for nothing,
feeling their flesh burn,
smiling, polishing their nails
in the colour of the season.

Stepping on butterflies
that mark where people died,
reminding everyone of nothing,
because they’re too busy to learn.

Busy making money
to pretend to be someone
who doesn’t suffer
from danger, exploitation,
and the constant fear of everything.

Building higher walls,
flying farther away on vacation
to pay less for more useless things
to gift the kids
raised by a nanny —
because you’re working
to buy a safer car
and pay a better nanny.

Dressing up
to walk in the park,
so others notice your new sneakers
you bought in Miami.

Meeting by the river shore
to watch the most wonderful sunset
turn the world
into a pink-and-orange painting,
sharing that special tea
that tastes of earth and freedom,
and kissing
until your lips hurt.

Passing under a tree
as blossoms fall like raindrops,
covering the uneven sidewalk,
making it soft,
making it gentle.

Hatred and love
go hand in hand.

Happy Harbour.