The Joke

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The Joke

Head back, his laughter comes from someplace deep,
where joy is tangible as Tonka trucks. 

His mother leans in close—stops—keeps
the stillness taut, the moment somewhere stuck 

in incarnation, waiting on the word:
“You need to take a shower!” Seventh time

hits better than the others. His laughter’s sure, 
but what is not is whether the joke is in 

delivery or in the fact that she 
suggests that soap and water could make us clean.

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