They all would laugh until it was
each their own turn to be The Fool,
revealed by the snarky smart-ass kid
who became the bitter hitter of soft spots,
the underbellies of the over-weening,
the pompous putzes who knew not
they were The Fools.
So often, I did it to hear your laugh
or that tittering stifled gasp,
your hand over your mouth lest
you’d be the one they’d look up and see,
wondering what was so funny.
And how I tried to encourage such
secret respirations of my disregard
for all the bare-assed Emperors.
It wasn’t until I lost the tune
of your laugh, the supposed harmony
of our daring duet, that I realized
I stood alone on stage,
my clownish baggy pants around my knees,
a solo act of slapstick self-indulgence
All the time, outlined within
your pink pin-spot, the key-light
faking sparkles in your brown eyes
and a minor gleam upon the smile
that actually was a sneer, it was
I who’d been played the biggest
Fool of all.
Quickly dashed off run at April’s Poem A Day Challenge, based upon a prompt from Writers Digest’s Robert Lee Brewer for a Foolish poem. Been there, done that, have the scars of embarrassment on four cheeks to prove it.