rolling me eyes
back at unblinking computer,
I hear black-and-white
come roaring to life
through an Irish accent
echoing in my mind.
I cover my mouth
neon green colored sweatshirt,
acting coy, as if I can hide laugh
from omnipotence. I try making
this last—I don’t want bidding
sadness. Smirking, I imagine
Him whispering: my, my, darling,
I can afford you a laugh, expensing
my heart.
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