NaPo 07 #5: Joy

'kay. So I'm running late with the poems. Sue me!

Joy

You're funny! Not as funny as the time
we went to the gay bar and watched
the drag act set off a toy cannon
which had, as his performance proceeded,
slowly drooped until its mouth
was level with the audience. "That
will teach queens to douse in hairspray
on a Friday night", you said. I burned

your hair, once, when we played
with candles and ropes. In those days
we used to play twice a day: we'd pounce
each other for instant gratification.
Nowadays gratitude comes in tea bags
and interrogations. I should have given
you up a decade ago, but somehow we found
a slow burn that keeps us chuckling still.