My funny bone tells me
I need a good laugh.
So past the grocery,
Around the court house,
And across the street,
I join a nun, a priest, and a rabbi
And walk into the bar with them.
They meet their party on the downstairs level
And ask me to join them there for a beer.
I am not a big drinker,
But I sit at the end there
And smile as I watch all the interactions.
The rabbi is funny
And cracking me up.
His grizzled, gray beard
Banters out wisecracks
Brilliantly wild, like Einstein’s do.
The frolic sets in with jolly laughter.
I find a deep chuckle in spite of myself.
The rabbi asks me to dance a quick polka.
I hear a faint squeeze box rib out the song.
Someone is pulling my leg ‘neath the table.
I agree to the dance, (hoping it’s not the nun.)
I stand and, in fun, give my hand to the rabbi,
Who joins me in a Cajun Repartee.
At the end of the song, there’s a tap on my shoulder.
Then, a hand on the back of the rabbi, as well.
I turn to see, the strange, good looking man,
Just as the lights dim, and a new song commences.
The intro is swooooony
At the changing of the arms,
Totally different mood and feeling—
So gay, the innocuous beat with the rabbi,
But this one is dangerous.
Joking aside,
Laughter deepened,
All the way down to the seriously funny.
You’re leading my feet
And dipping me sweetly.
My insides have disintegrated.
They mock me for staying.
And yet there is a presence of fractured giggling
Settling in on me like everyday quicksand,
Putting me whole with every stitch,
Regaling me with deep hilarity,
And wrapping me up in gleaming play.
Funny how life sweetly deceives us,
Dropping the punch line we crave all along.
Fate smirks, but this last laugh is loudest.
As I unwind in your stroll, you grin and say,
“Have you heard the one about the strange, good looking man?”
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