COMEDY

COMEDY

After the storm last night, the sky

turned to cadmium hues, yellows – really –

it was like peering into the throat

of a honey-colored lily.

We’d never seen anything like that,

summer sky like a glowing firefly

and to the southeast

a rainbow in reply –

We watched King of Comedy after that;

it made me squirmy, embarrassed.

I wondered about other artist friends –

might they have felt it – that Rupert was like us,

believing in what we make

while the world taps finger to temple

thinks us a touch out of our minds –

insufficiently observant

of social cues and rules, we are

– loving everybody and everything

a little too much.

I wanted to crawl back to my cave, to tell the truth.

I would never kidnap a star

and go to jail, to get the world

to notice me and what I do.

Maybe I need to be crazier.