Ha.
Ha.
Ha, ha.

So funny, I joke.
When you relentlessly poke.
Sideways and abstract around.

You love me banana.
Cocktails spinning, tropicana.
Fresh, high, completely.

Weathered hands creaking.
Old, knobbly, endlessly creasing.
Tan in the midsummers dream.

You're still laughing.
Giggles for women.
Chuckles for men.
Gurgles for babies with pampers on backwards.

Streak across my sky is an untangible design.
Taciturn, why? You still fill my sky.
Knee deep in shallow water, not murky, skirts rippling.

Quiet and reticent. 
Hahaha still laughing, ironic?
Like silver lightning, it arches, across my horizon.
You do not sting. (!)
Silence is your virtue, yet you can do nothing but spill
mirth from your lips. 
Unbesmirched.

Twirling across the aching leaves of the elders.
Their branches brought low with age and time.
Sand sprinkled across their toes.

Starts with a slight quivering.
At the middle of your wide lower lip.
Beams with moonlight.
Tips upturning into The Smile.
Hurts if you look away.
Soft, like the brambling of the river over rocks.
Distant and near.
I can almost taste the mangos.