a poem by Maggie Smith
- •Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
- •Life is short, and I've shortened mine
- •in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
- •a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
- •I'll keep from my children. The world is at least
- •fifty percent terrible, and that's a conservative
- •estimate, though I keep this from my children.
- •For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
- •For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
- •sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
- •is at least half terrible, and for every kind
- •stranger, there is one who would break you,
- •though I keep this from my children. I am trying
- •to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
- •walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
- •about good bones. This place could be beautiful,
- •right? You could make this place beautiful.