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      August 11, 2022A Hazardous Brush With an Abnormally Extended Feeling of Well-BeingGreg Kosmicki

      Sometimes you can be so happy and it’s inexplicable,
      driving your car down the freeway
      or sitting in your kitchen eating an apple
      or say you just completed a mundane task
      like putting two stacks of paper into order.
      It has nothing to do with that probably
      probably it has nothing to do with anything.
      You can actually be happy for no real reason
      just as you can breathe for no reason
      or take a dump for no reason
      I mean, other than the obvious reasons
      or maybe it’s only because you can say reason
      at least as many times as you’d like
      at the end of a line for no reason.
      If someone tells you you can’t be happy
      tell him take a hike, there is no reason
      not to be because if you want it to be it can be
      and you don’t even have to have a reason
      to be happy, you can just be
      kind of like a spider might be happy
      sitting up in a corner in her web
      trying to think about whether or not
      she can understand the concept or even
      if she cares or not. There is the web,
      and the corner, and someplace flying toward her, lunch,
      and someplace a poem that ends with the word lunch.

      from #33 - Summer 2010

      Greg Kosmicki

      “I write poems because I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to agitate my wife of 36 years.”