I thought I could write it down, turns out

I can't.

Ask me again, when things are funny.

Or enough time has passed, I can make them funny.

You know that's how I tell my stories.

That's the crutch too. That there's always a next time.

That we never really get that desperate, urgent need for anything to happen now, now, now.

And that the poem below is actually an excuse to pretend I've said all I wanted to say.

It's sad and I'm sad. But I'll never admit it.