The Story of Happiness, by Charles Simic

Happiness, unknown woman,

There’s a childhood picture

Of the two of us,

Your hands are covering my eyes,

All but your arms are cut off.

I always hoped you’ll return.

I’ll be doing nothing in particular,

Barely keeping an eye on the person

Ahead of me at the checkout counter,

When that delicious blindness

Will again sweep me off my feet.

It’s a baffle, I said only yesterday.

Then I raised my beer glass

And invited everyone present

To drink to my future happiness,

When the bartender asked me

To please stop making a disturbance.

My happiness is busy making others happy,

I continued under my breath.

It will come to me yet:

I’ll be tinkling the little iron bell

On a desk of an antique store . . .

I’ll be on a motorcycle flying at dusk

Over the Nevada desert, when . . .

From “Walking the Black Cat” by Charles Simic. (Harcourt Brace: $24, 83 pp.). Copyright 1996 Reprinted by permission.