The Day We Cornered Happiness In The Back Alley

Santa-Cruz-Cowboy,-California

We cornered happiness in the back of the alley behind the pub Ambivalence and we said “stick Em up.”

But happiness was quicker in the draw and shot us in the leg. After physical therapy we hung up fliers around town: Happiness, we’re coming to getcha, ya hear?

“Happiness quivered in its boots” was how we told it at the taverns.

If someone asked us the outcome then, we would have posited an outrageous success of us gunning down happiness when he least expected it—happiness in the toilet or wrangling something outta his boots.

Well Outlaw Sally, here’s a surprise  you never thought would come crashing for your door: That greased up cat found us, snuck up when the TiVo was the only one on the clock.

Came barging in during a good dream  one of those fuzzy ones with angels and success and a million dollars and sex.
Cowboy-Silhouette

Well whattya think he did once he was in the house?

Started dancing around the room, looked like the river dance, of some skill was this specter. First thing he says is “smoke em if you got em””

Well we were out, but had a nice chat anyways. Happiness had be face of a criminal, but a heart of gold, 24  carrot shit—shines like an anniversary. Called Larry up at the security company told him to replace the locks, but nothing helped, happiness kept gettin in. Part raccoon was happiness, the Jones girl said.

No, the other Jones girl, the one who paints, the pretty one whose always got dance on her mind and gin in her cup—lovely soul that one, make a man wonder what he’d have to do to get a light to turn on those eyes.

Anyways he’s here for now, comes at the strangest moments and no argument from me.

My only dissatisfaction is a complaint of many a reasonable host at keeping a guest with arbitrary hours, coming when you
thought they’d gone, going when you think they’ll stick around.

Well, happiness, you win this round, but only because your so damned charming. But next round’s on the house, so remember that next time you come back wobbly from the whiskey, that it will not be a fight, but one that has the full weight of life behind it.