He Laughs Poem by Alistair Graham

He walks the road
confidently smiling,
knowing full well
life has not thrown him,
in front of anyone
that would cause him,
to think differently
or say the following

“I wish I were,
just like him or her,
because of their looks
or how they can cook,
their social position
or cultural tradition,
their job or their title
or that they have none,
the size of his house
or her annual income,
the smile on the face
the walk or the pace
the shade of her eyelid
the cut of the man’s jib.”

Back at his house
he opens the door,
he calls to his wife,
hangs his coat on the floor,
he walks up the hall,
trips on the mat,
leans on the wall,
to steady his hat,
looks in the mirror,
he’s happy with that,
he laughs;
he walks into the kitchen