The Best Medicine

My laugh is grating,
                                  shrill,
                                            vexatious.

What a shame
that I should find 
everything in life
SO SO SO
hilarious.

It spurts past my lips
as gracefully
as a boiling k e  t   t    l     e
or the braying
of a stubborn mule.

I should hope
to someday outgrow it.
Like pants so easily replaced
when they are ripped at the seams
from someone's bottom growing ever so large.

If I should be so lucky.

Until then,
a vow of silence?
Solitary confinement, perhaps?
Just the thought
is making my lips curl skywards
and my eyelids crinkle
at the absurdity.
Ha.