The Jokester’s Broken Sense of Humor
by Seth McBride
by Dane Hildebrandt
Those malted milk balls won't
fill that gap of longing
and neither will abstaining
as long as the real
is distinguished from the ideal
a gap exists
exist in the gap
Aquatic Sunrise by Tucker Foley
The Existential Diet
I’ve underestimated my strength;
Shoulder jabs socked for laughs,
They were taps to me, but I rapt
Your arm too quick to depict how hard
My reciprocated joke would be delivered –
The punch line left the audience bruised.
I can say I offered my truth, nothing
But observational opinion swiftly wisped
Scents of buttered popcorn and pretzels
To be swallowed by your ear. Digesting
Cold burnt kernels that slipped and sifted
To the bottom of the metal cabinet,
It punched the gut of your brain, believing
I intended the pain, you released your
Taught and tempered grin framed between
Cherry cheeks. The white was mined from
Beneath your eyes, temporarily tapping wells.
This saddened sickness swelled to the surface
Of my face, I was only joking, so I was hoping
For a laugh, but the true joke was the uncensored
Comedian who can’t find a happy medium
Telling tainted truths to produce a smile.
The dial on my microphone went quiet, and I
fell to my knees crying, despising the exterior
Lies I implied, these I relied on for a laugh, but
Instead my heart was the only one to crack up.
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