Vol 8, Num 18 :: 2009.09.18 — 2009.10.01
A sense of humor is the only divine quality of man.
Schopenhauer
As a child I
argued in the kitchen
where the dishwasher stood
a silent island witnessing
the moment I said the f word
to my mother.
You and I lie uneasy on the big bed
the children sometimes knock
on the door but inside of each
of us something little and soft
is yelling its tiny little head
off.
My laptop sits in
neutral accepting fingertip
abuse on clicky keys
debating health
care and education
with people I’ve not seen
in years.
And in
every argument I’ve ever had
I catch (as if you can really catch
the glow of the firefly
as if you can own it)
a flash, a glimpse of myself
wild
falling right out of my buzzing skin
only to float away
on pokes and prods
like you might keep a tissue in the air
from below
with your finger
and I have
to
laugh.
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