it feels as if I’m leaning forward
in my chair on the off chance
I might soon get to leap to my feet
in standing ovation. As if I expect
life to be wonderful. And so often
it is. Like today when my girl and I
made up new slang for friendship,
or when the rain let up and
the highway was once again dry.
Now that I write it, some cynical
sliver of myself chimes in,
Really, Rosemerry? You’re always
at the edge of cheering
for life? And I turn to that
cynical sliver and leap up and cheer
at the realization that at last
I don’t mind the inner trash talk.
In fact, I love this smirking,
sarcastic vein of myself, and I nod
at her with all my over-the-top earnestness
and clap as she doubts me, I
clap and I clap and I clap.