i should write a happy poem

but…
i'm not a happy poet.
since beginning is the part
that's hardest,
i'll make a simple start.
i guess i love
this coffee mug,
sitting with an indian's style,
and how warm beds are so worthwhile.
i like best friends and
freckles,
reckless activity and
keys that work quietly.
and now that i ponder, i know i love
the heat of summer
and how we take pictures
or skate to piers to feel
like God hears
when He's been gone.
oh,
and
blondes!
i love more than i think.
and by that i mean
more often does my heart swell
than my brain tell
me to slow down before i'm in love with every thing and every body
i see.
so many gifts to humanity:
donuts and plates of cake,
television and mutual hate
for insufferable bitches -
while we're on the subject,
fuck!
tit!
shit!
i love spicy sauce
in speech or pad thai
and the way i tie
my shoe laces. not having braces,
how people fill spaces
in your heart you didn't know exist.
i love how vodka twists
and tumbles words.
man,
i think i love the world.