If it’s not to my advantage, it doesn’t exist.
This is my first natural right—
Which I cling to with all my might.
When I was two, a two year old girl
Punched me in the face;
Nor was this a lesson in sexism or disgrace,
For what advantage to the good to be sexist?
None. Therefore in my heart sexism doesn’t exist.
I can’t tell you about what isn’t there—
This has no interest for feminism. None.
Now for me this subject is done.
Etiquette? Don’t waste my time.
You’ll get no cover letter—I’ll just send my rhyme.
As for the secret to happiness, here it is:
The more folly we see, the happier we are—
That’s the whole secret right there.
Discerning the fake is the sole care of genius.
This makes us wise. Exquisite folly guides the genius.
Folly makes us laugh. And most of all, happy.
Tenuous balance—we find folly where we find the wise.
Common disease is wisdom’s greatest lure.
What is most intimate with disease, but its cure?
Capitalism and communism? Both are thievery.
All of us, stupidly, in lust, buy and sell;
The punishment is the priest’s fake, or the dictator’s real, hell.
Capitalism is willing thievery, and individual will
Is the one thing any government must fulfill,
So Capitalism, despite Marxist theory,
Is my choice, and so ends this query.
Finally, the secret to poetry: a woman fell
In love with a guy she thought looked like Brad Pitt,
Even though he didn’t look like Brad Pitt.
Because “Brad Pitt” was on the lips of her friends, surprise!
Words ruled her heart, and she thought it was her eyes.
Poetry is merely this folly in reverse: a surprise
In which what seems to be about words is really about the eyes
By way of the ears.
Dressed in blue, and smiling, a word brought me to tears.