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