What makes me laugh?
Men make me laugh.
They come, they go—rarely stay.
Never know how to engage in any meaningful way.
They have only one thought in their pea-sized brains:
what they can gain without leaving stains.
They focus on balls of all shapes and sizes.
They kick them, hit them, throw them.
They bounce them. Juggle them.
Throw them through hoops.
They’re thrilled—without restraint—if they can get them across a line.
Into a hole. A tunnel. A net.
They sprint for them, sweat for them.
If only they put that much effort into things that aren’t ball-shaped.
You can’t help but wonder:
what is it with men and balls?
They often balls-up.
They damage relationships with children and wives
by focusing on the wrong balls in their lives.
They get angry when a ball misses a target—
but strike out at the things that really matter.
Don’t get me wrong—
I like round things.
Many perfect packages arrive in round skin:
oranges, apples, blueberries…
and the tiny round ones that create new life.
Contained in roundness is goodness.
Pleasure. Wonder.
In that sense, I get the fascination.
Round things make up our universe.
Planets. Stars. Cells. Atoms.
Even tree limbs and stems are tubes.
All square things are man-made.
Hard. Unforgiving.
They collapse under pressure.
But round things are eternal.
They shape our being.
Still—
it’s funny that men are so absorbed with round things.
Especially balls. In all their funny forms.
Living on the Edge 