Are You Happy With It?

Are you happy with it?
I asked the smiling man,
his head nodding, so fast,
I could not catch his
Maddening eyes.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the sitting lady,
as she rocked squeakily,
paper-bagged bottle,
splashing down her drunken legs,
but I could not sharpen her blur.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the limping child,
its lop-sided neck,
angling the world to 45,
yet even there,
she only grinned
by degrees.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the patient,
strapped to a white bed,
pulls, pipes and promises,
dragged out of his soul,
as his stare spoke
a steep silence.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the reflection,
while speeding into a vacuum.
It looked familiar,
almost me,
but afraid to change pace,
he just mouthed NO.

poem by Jerry Pike
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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