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That Kind of Funny


I’m getting older, I
Know what determination means
The human heart, lovers,
Is not an ATM machine
She tells me jokes, and I
Don’t so much laugh as smile inside
I’d like to share — they’re not
That kind of funny, I’m afraid

Because the lights are on, but we’ve both gone outside
Because the bravest souls still need a place to hide

From stubborn people who
Don’t so much cry as swallow hard
“What are we doing?” she
Offered while shuffling the cards
I watched her deal, and the
Lit major in me rolled its eyes
Hackneyed symbols, but
They’re kind of funny, after all

Until a case is made where 1 + 1 is 3
Until this shadow ceases slouching after me.

If and only if the umbrella’s big enough
And only if the river runneth in our cup…

I didn’t think so — we
Don’t so much love as need a lot
You’re like a bed, dear, but
I only really want a cot
And if that’s tragic, well,
Then you just sprinkle me with dust
And smile inside, ‘cause I’m
That kind of funny

(Da da da, etc.)

© 2003 John Brocato
(June 30-July 2, 2003)

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