I see you. But you don’t necessarily know I’m staring because you’re focused straight ahead. I am to your side, catching only your profile, which in and of itself always give me lastima. But your side, plus you’re laughing? That’s practically a catastrophe.
You’re like a Simpson character. You’re out of a Tim Burton movie. Your mouth is wide - a cave where all the stars can tumble in - and your teeth and tongue play peek-a-boo. Sometimes you sigh, other times you roar, but the bigger and brighter your smile and the more squished up your face, the more despair I feel. Because you’re exposed.
At this 45 degree angle, I see every grain of your emotion and whatever is behind it, too. Trying to connect or trying to make some other person feel better or trying simply to release. Thankfully I’m not in front of you so I can keep my ache a secret while you eat up all that glee.
p.s. If we’re at a comedy club, I’ll have to find a way to sit behind you because THAT is just too much.