[The happy ones are almost always also vulgar]

The happy ones are almost always also vulgar;

happiness has a way of thinking

that's rushed and has no time to look

but keeps on moving, compact and manic,

with contempt in passing for the dying:

Get on with your life, come on, buck up!

Those stilled by pain don't mix

with the cheerful, self-assured runners

but with those who walk at the same slow pace.

If one wheel locks and the other's turning

the turning one doesn't stop turning

but goes as far as it can, dragging the other

in a poor, skewed race until the cart

either comes to a halt or falls apart.