It’s funny.

A sequence of jokes.

That collection of memories I stand up in front of the audience of life,

and spill out from the centre of my soul.

 

Tales of wonder, stories which elicit awe and a sharp intake of breath.

 

But everything, every decision, every choice, every twist and turn,

leads to a comical end.

Most telling are my tales of love, loss and a heart which can never be repaired.

 

I grip the mic-stand and will the crowd to offer even one shred of empathy,

yet all I see in the half-light reflected off of the wall behind me

are vacant grins and an unspoken perception of ‘rather you than me’…….

 

My past dances in my mind like a Court Jester, reminding me I can’t ever go back

and see what outcome might have been from another choice.

All I know are the now unclimbable peaks I’ve surmounted, along with the fear inducing chasms I’ll avoid with every fibre of my being. Yet both are always there to either challenge, confuse, or destroy.

Faith in another will never be found or allowed within again.

Now I merely Work, Rest and Play, waiting for a bony tap on my shoulder.

Hoping the best memories of what was flash through my mind before the inky blackness leads me to a numbness, before nothingness……

The sound of the manager of the Comedy Club clicking all the switches, then setting the alarm….

 

Steve B 08/18