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the last of the laughers laughs last
 
there are one hundred walls
surrounding my sense of humor,
and if you throw one of the walls away
you might be able to toss your antics into my witty pit.  
if you can't get me to budge 
then consider sleeping on top of my difficulties.

they won't mind

my shoes sit like haystacks in the breezeway,
their ripped toecaps letting the air punch in, 
so when I put them on again, like putting on rolls of hay,

you can say "hey, you have rolls of hay on your feet."

to which I can reply "hey, I know.  maybe I should sit in a field."