Success is measured
in years, in wisdom, in happiness.

In the amount of people who pause
as you walk,

the number of strangers
who stare at your screen and are moved
to pressing a button.

Success is measured in clicks,
in slow, thoughtful clicks: hammers
pounding through keys with accidental madness.
"I like it," they scream.
I like it.

Success is measured
by happiness. By
snaking smiles stretching far,
too far.

In my peripheral vision, I see it.
A knight battling
a monkey.
A butterfly fighting
a queen.
An old man sitting on the park bench
and laughing at the woes
of the children.

"I like it," he thinks.
I like it