Statistically Significant Happiness.

'Face wiz trippin' the loat ae um...' - Pedestrian.

The graph curves

into

a

frown

of

disappointment.

There is a weather beaten rock were you sit
with your back to the wind trying to light
a hopeless cigarette.

A bus stopped dead at the lights

sealed with young mothers, folded buggies,
and cantankerous soured faced history lessons.

If they took a slice of orange

on the head of their beer
they could enrich their lives
with some vitamin C.

You oil yourself on whiskey

and tough boy humour
and varnish old wounds.
You sure know how

to lighten up a swollen cloud.

A geriatric ward
with fourteen year olds
going on eighty

year old cynicism.

Statistically our laughter
doesn't stand
a chance against

the wall of the cemetery.

There is not enough

sun through the sky 

to cheer up this Nation.

Happiness

is a
dish

best

served

in the
Mediterranean.