(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Ideals Believed

There is nothing wrong,
With having ideals to believe.
Are possible to reach.
And in a state of mind one keeps,
Allowed to puff on legalized weed.
For as long as one wishes,
To dismiss the existence of reality.

"You're not from around here,
Are you? "

-No, I am not.
Just here on a short visit.
To see relatives and friends.
How did you know that? -

"Your happiness.
You reek of it."

-Oh, my God.
I'm sorry.
I didn't realize anyone could smell it.-

"Smell it?
I can see it.
You radiate happiness.
As if you discovered the 'key' of life! "

-My keys?
Where are my keys? -

"Calm down.
You've got them.
Shaking them around in your hand."

Thank you.
What a relief.
I nearly forgot where I was.-

Visiting friends and relatives? "

-Yes. Yes. Thank you.-

"Would you be...
Packing your happiness?
Or is it naturally grown? "

-It's natural.
Okay? -

I ain't got no problem with it.
I'm just saying it's noticeable.
That's all."

-That's all I need.
To be reminded I should buy mints.-

"For what? "

-To keep my happiness,
From overflowing.
And being arrested for my 'ideals'.-

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