Laughing Boy

Why do we talk?
The words flow from your lips
steadysteadysteady
a stream of openness and swelling passion
that drips from your eyes
and evaporates into the air before I could spy a tear.
There is no sadness here.
Only bliss,
an imagined touch
ignoring reality for just a moment
or two
or ten
or ten thousand because God
I could talk to you forever.
What am I doing?
I should know by now that this thing doesn't work
talking, thinking
too many words and a lack of action
create a biggerbiggervoid
than what had originally been present
when I was alone.
And yet thoughts of you swim in my head
a pool of smiles, a blue eye
and a brown eye
and wow oh wow you get me, you really do
get me
you could get me
if you wanted,
but you probably don't.
So I'll just enjoy swimming inside my skull,
ignore the verbs that I want to express to you,
seal them in an envelope
and tuck it away.
This whole thing was probably stupid
to say.
Never mind.