Day #6, Poems #4 and #5:

You’re funny, I said.
he looked at me, surprised.
I’m not sure why-
that’s how he was written
in the script.

At school he was the one
the teachers liked-
good with words,
his mind
was quick on its feet.

He’s the funny one.
In a horror movie he dies after
the overly-curious jock
and before
the frightened nerd.

He claims discomfort
at parties, but he always has
people laughing around him,
while he quickly gulps
a third glass of wine.

I was surprised-
You should be happy,
I told him,
You’re the funny one.
Yeah, he said-

Happy and funny are different.
Happy is the result
of too little information.
Funny is the result
of too much information.

Funny is defense,
deflection,
dealing,
because the sorrow and crap
are always piled up too high.

It’s dark in here, he said.
Don’t come in here-
there’s nothing in here worth seeing.
That reminds me, he said-
and then he made me laugh.

- - - - -

And to conclude this set, here is an old poem, because they seem to fit together, in a way-

The jealous rocks mutter early
in the pearly morning light;
grow surly now, sharp words define
the faults of the morning glory vine,
which twists and turns,
turning divine, the craggy,
crabby space it climbs.