poem of the day 02.22.11

laughing guy

there is always one of them
in a pack of people

the laughing guy

the one who won’t quit chuckling

because everything is funny to him

you can hear him coming
from half a block away
his mundane cackle mixing
with the quiet, buzzing voices of his friends

and you turn the music up
to drown him out
you put down the book because
you know you will be unable to read

you put the movie on pause

hope the laughing guy and his pals
don’t park themselves
in front of your window

but they will

they’ll stand there smoking
million dollar cigarettes
clueless with what to do on a saturday night
because their heads are empty
their souls a vacuum
because there is nowhere to go

and the whole time the laughing guy
will be in the middle
of this dim witted pack
cackling, giggling, or howling over any triviality

and you will pray for famine
for an act of god or terror
to take this idiot down

or for a car to come barreling over
the sidewalk

you will never wonder
what is so funny to this person
because you already know that
whatever it is
it is anything but funny

and the music will stay on loud
the book will lay on your chest
the beer will sit there waiting

or the movie will remain on pause

until this moron and his ilk
finish their cigarettes and move on
toward their glowing and pristine boredom
the voices mumbling their anticipation

the laughing guy
hooting his ass off
until the pack of them make their way
slowly up the block and around the bend

and life can resume its
crooked course
almost as serene as it had been
just a few moments ago.