Wet stuff that hangs around funerals,
falls on confetti,
makes face-masks go crooked,
reveals children's fears: tears
squeeze out cells' storage,
make bits of us fall off
in dark rooms where movies occur,
when words move for us;

waterfalls out of the retina,
writing like clear ink on air,
over clouded occasions, like rain;

tears are what bodies dispense with
when life is a joke.