confession

i find it hard to believe

you howl with laughter

at my lines of silly that

curve around your bends



and like an expatriate catholic

with a poetry confession box

i say too much



it makes me sad because

it is perhaps better for me

for you to not know me

and me to know your laughter



but whatever db level the mirth

descending a staircase of glee

i find it better to know you laugh



then to explore the underdog balloon

floating over you in the tunnel of delight

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