Mans\laughter

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Have you ever asked a room

What it's seen, and has to impart?

Six by eight...

It doesn't say much.

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Past emotions like paint smeared

Bright on the walls and pooled on the floor,

And the smell of

449 other animals.

\crash!\

448.

This should be so distressing.

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Leaned against

A graphite-on-concrete jesus,

You lay in heavy, sweaty, half-lit waste

And an accented voice asks

What did you do?

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How can you not laugh.

There was a girl, you say.