i measure my depth in centimeters….
sometimes i’m as deep as a puddle
and can’t fathom the fathoms you feel.
i’m the wittiest one in the huddle
but none of the ad-libs are real.
the names are all changed to protect me
from the youth that i gave up for lent.
and while it’s designed to deflect you,
the laughs that you pay are not spent.
they’re saved up for when i am lonely.
they’re stored up in brown, paper sacks.
and until i am my “one and only”,
i can barely afford the steep tax.
so i go out to bars in the evenings
and i banter with wit and small puns
’cause i know that the laughs you are leaving
will help when i get low on funds.