The morning is blue
The silence thin and watery
like skim milk and old ketchup

The sun is still rubbing its eyes outside in the cold
and I would be too
if the effort of removing my glasses weren't so much trouble
for just the simple pleasure of the pressure of my hands against my eyes

Somewhere someone is laughing
and it catches and becomes the awkward laughter of almost strangers
and it is filling up the thin space between the silence
I am laughing too
and it is the first time I've laughed in so long
that I can taste the rust as it flakes from my voice
and falls into my mouth dissolving bitter and bloody on my tongue

I am laughing, hidden in the uneasy but noncommittal laughter of anonymity
it is bad jokes and sour coffee in the cold
among people who do not care, but have no other choice
than to spend their mornings together
in a small room with too many tables
and not enough good jokes

AcB 04.26.01