Laugh Junkie

Buster Keaton broke his neck to get a laugh out of me

I am a laugh junkie

without sympathy

I think he got off easy

I know the feeling

I constantly crave the sound of making people laugh

though my love of laughter is so selfish

so I get no such rush hearing laughter inspired by other people

like an alcoholic watching another drink

he can think what the other feels after so many drinks

but he cannot feel how it feels to be drunk unless he is good and drunk

drunk for an alcoholic is sober for the rest of us

with practice even the most dimwitted can learn to be a functioning alcoholic

meaning he’s under the influence of alcohol most of the time

meaning he can get by at activities the rest of us would find impossible to try

after so many beers

like walking, talking, drinking

leaving me thinking nothing except I should be thinking about what not to be thinking

this puppy dog chasing its tail

after awhile

you start to root for the puppy

“Come on, puppy! Catch your tail!”

Let’s say the puppy catches his own tail

then what?

Face first into this stream of consciousness

currents carrying me past the bodies of dead memories that bob up and down

so old and water logged

that I can’t even see

what they used to mean to me

could be comedy could be tragedy

they could mean anything

all I know is what I used to believe

is now make believe

and what I used to see as hazy

looking at the horizon dissecting the sky and the sea

on the hottest of summer days

and I trust my eyes less than I can throw them

knowing the horizon is not really swimming in the heat

that the horizon doesn’t even exist

it is just a fine line traced by this mind

these lies my eyes devise

to parallel truth

and even dreams seem real

some times realer than a reel of reality

shining upon a real movie screen

where we laugh at the man falling down

not standing up.


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