On a wet and chilly morning,

I was feeling kind of glum.

So I plopped down on my sofa,

And I sat there like a bum.

 

I tried to smile brightly.

And I tried to chuckle warmly.

But it wasn’t coming eas’ly,

So I rubbed my cheeks so sorely.

 

There had to be a way to happy

For a dumb glum bum like me.

So I clicked it on to channel three,

And watched in misery.

 

“It’s the real thing!” It said.

“Open happiness!” It read.

“Could it be?” I replied.

“Then it’s for me!” I jubilized.

 

So in a zap I snapped

The tabs and caps

Off every Coke

I had on tap.

 

I chugged and glugged

Down all the suds.

‘Til there was nothing left because…

 

This was my way to be happy—

A dumb glum bum like me.

 

And as I waited in eager vigil,

I felt my tiny tummy fizzle.

It rizzled and razzled. It bubbled; It troubled.

My cheeks were flushed; my energy doubled.

 

A happy day was on its way.

There’s nothing more that’s left to say.

Coke is key; I don’t know why.

But happy is something you can buy.

 

Then just like that,

The gas went free,

And I burped like

Buddy the elf on ABC Family.

 

As glum as ever,

I cranked some tunes.

The host she said,

“We’ll be back soon.”

 

“Come hungry, leave happy,”

The IHop ad claimed.

My spirits revived,

I headed their way.

 

As I stared from the booth

At the pancake display,

I was shocked by my waitress—

She walked on both legs.

 

“I’ll have one of each!”

I proudly exclaimed.

She raised her eyebrows,

And then walked away.

 

There was raspberry and mulberry

And blueberry and snozzberry

And chocolate, banana,

And one that just looked hairy.

 

Despite their foul tastes,

I stuffed up my gut

‘Til I looked like the doughboy

And had a blubbery butt.

 

“Are you doing okay, sir?”

Asked the staff and the crew.

Then I threw up my happy

On my waitress’s shoe.

 

“I’m doing fine now!”

I cried, out the door.

That was going to get messy;

That was for sure.

 

French’s— “Happiness Starts Here”

Disney World— “The Happiest Place on Earth”

Golden Corral—“Help Yourself to Happiness”

The billboard signs flew past.

But from what I’ve amassed, those blasts wouldn’t last.

 

So like a glum bum,

I plopped on my bed,

And wrote down this poem

Straight out of my head.

 

And to my bamboozlement,

A smile took root

Not followed by burps

Or embarrassing puke.

 

That’s when I realized

And inescapable truth:

That happiness isn’t

What I thought in my youth.

 

It’s not something you sell.

It’s not something you buy.

Not a place you can go.

Or a car you can drive.

 

But pursuing your passion,

And letting it show.

Bring joy to your neighbors,

And others you know.

 

Now there’s nothing on earth

That could brighten my shine,

But to know that you’re smiling

As you read this last line.