Improv', Week 5

"Dark Laughter" by Dan Albergotti

There's nothing funny about this, she said,
but that only made me laugh harder. I wish
I could have said that inappropriate laughter
is the most human, as is open weeping
after the best sex. Excess of sorrow laughs,
said William Blake. Excess of joy weeps.
I wish I could have said that we most need
laughter at midnight, surrounded by cold stones.
We need a drunken porter to hold his head,
fart, and make broad jokes about liquor
and cocks while royal blood stains for a lady's skin.
Every tragedy calls for a laugh, for a moment
of grinning recognition, a brief nod to the author
of the cosmic comedy. I wish I could have said,
Listen up , baby. Listen to God's laughter in the night wind.
But I could not catch my breath before she left,
before joy could begin to bring me down.

My Improv':

There's nothing funny about this, he said,
but that only turned my laughter into raging fits
of hysteria. A real knee-slapper, I thought.
I wish I could've shown him how to laugh,
really cackle with his head thrown back,
mouth spread wide as hollow voices dance
in and out of his throat. But he only gnashed
his teeth at me. Music in itself, those white
porcelains roughly playing together. I wish
I could have said that we need foreplay like
this, a veiled cat'n'mouse chase underneath
mocha flannel. We need a stack of erotic
visuals, a real life house-call who smells
of cigarettes and latex. Maybe then he
would spit-up a wail of joy or two. I wish
I could have said, Lighten up, baby. Listen
to the echos of pleasure my laugh brings.
But I could not close off the wind exhaling
from my lungs long enough to breath before
he threw back the sheet, before the arousal
could begin to bring me down.