XXIX: The Unknown

July 30, 2010
Universe, you misanthrope
I dance today for
Your laugh at my tomorrow

I feel your expectant, roguish glance
I am your sardonic sense of humor.

A wry smile glows blue and anticipant
On both our shoulders

You may tell the punchline;
A finger on my lips until it hits,
I'll try to act surprised
When I find
It's not what I expected





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