I sit
with discomfort and rue
old friends
met in a bar serving
fried intentions
and partially baked
thoughts.

I question
how our relationship
has morphed
or perhaps I no longer
have the receptors
no taste
for their brand
of humor.

Laugh now
too big
for the small joke
a reflex learned
to keep the eyes away
from the tunnel
that leads to my true heart.

I continue
to subject
myself to ethical
jump-rope.

For the sake of shared history
I stumble past
moments of awkward being.