The Inspector
I am tickled by an image of Inspector Dreyfus
Giddy with a touch of sly madness.
“Every day, in every way
I am getting better and better”,
A feel-good gem
Borrowed from Emile Coue
Though no one would decry the theft
So appropriate to this case.
The Inspector is targeted
With a rubber-tipped arrow,
A suction cup planted between his brows.
His madness is still subsurface,
A calm lake covering currents of chaos,
His dreams still haunted by Clouseau.
Like a redemptive Scrooge,
I don’t deserve to be this happy.
I am almost high
On something I don’t recognize.
“Here, Try this, It’s really smooth.”
I only know that it is good
Beyond belief.
A taste was all that it took.
Where can I tap this well at will?
How can I dip into it
When I am down?
I seem rejuvenated,
An unknown side effect
Known only to aficionados
And hardcore happiness addicts.
If this is senility,
Bring it on,
Nothing to be feared
But embraced with gratitude.
I am a thief in the dark
Come not to steal your secret
But to share in it,
Share your smile
And paste it on my own.
Laugh with your laugh
Illuminate my eyes in the light of yours
And hop the freight you’re on
And ride these rails
Wherever they take me.
I am rejuvenated
On a de Leon-quest
For a fountain of fireworks
And renewal.
If this is senility,
Bring it on.
Nothing to be feared
But embraced with gladness
Where the Inspector’s words
Ring true.