Laughing (Draft 6)
Why do they mock me,
tell me I’ll never be loved. It hurts
thinking it’s true, and
does seem like lachrymal cooking
makes fried lonely batter, sizzle not
suitable for banter, but
I don’t want to twitter
or fritter away a sob.
Sometimes I feel like
every sizzle tear of mine
is a drop of my essence
and I want you
to have a cup
to capture me kindly
and if you drink of me
I won’t mind if you laugh in joy, because
you see
my life as a loving game.
I think I could be truly amusing
and so much so that, I’d do
what I always wanted to do
and laugh into your arms, because
I know you have always loved me
though I don’t know how to cry
don’t know how to laugh, but
I think maybe in my rain
a jumble of emotion
would be fun
with a cocktail, a gentle kiss,
your passion flurry and a wonder-storm
— Douglas Gilbert
