For Norma... Poem by RIC BASTASA

she sends pictures of
herself in Holland
with the tulips in full
bloom and teeming
as background,
beyond is the shadow
of the windmill,
the usual symbol of
what the place is
all about,

she is smiling

somehow mathematics
comes into the picture
a little analyzing goes
this way: she has cancer
and she does not tell
anybody, but how did i
know about it, is something
that i am original and
say resourceful in all
aspects: people feed people
with other people's malady
and they toast coffee
and have a sympathetic
talk about it,
she lives alone and thrives
on her monthly pension
something not more than
enough for
a chemotherapeutic
session, (how many sessions
more?)
did she wear a wig when
that picture was taken?

(how secretly do we keep
diseases
of the mind?) and how happy
can feigned happiness last?
how pretentious can pictures
be sometimes?

well, this must be that,
spread happiness, no matter
how fake it has become

people must be happy,
oh! these are the happy real
children of God.