They are happy who are simple servants
To bland fortuity. Since the lucky
Make us slaves, and since the fortuitous
Does not demand much—being fortuitous—
The best is bland. Don’t envy the dull
Pharmaceutical salesman who likes sports,
Has two children who play sports,
And a wife who doesn’t have to work.
The tragi-comedies of the fabulists
Don’t reflect happiness. Dullness
Is required for happiness.
Difficult literature is a fool’s grave.
I’ll shut this poetry down for a hug and a kiss.
The superficial is good. I won’t miss this.