Persona
Feb 8 2024
I was hooked
the first time in front of a crowd
getting laughs.
I'm still shy
and keep my guard up
looking out for my kryptonite.
But the me behind the microphone
is protected
in that metamorphic circle of light,
like a superhero
all armoured-up
in flowing cape and tights.
So I am the alter ego
the one who wears the disguise;
the real me
only comes into being
when there's an audience there to see.
I come alive
when it's anything for a laugh.
But either way, performative.
Which is why
when I'm alone
I feel I've disappeared.
And alone with you
the jokes fail
the patter is lame
I can think only of escape.
With no audience there
I deflate
like the Invisible Man;
a pile of clothes
and the lingering scent
of flop-sweat and stress
all that's left of me.
The wise-cracking persona
who's full of life
they fall in love with.
And the man who's bad at love
stumbling over his tongue.
Who's full of awkward silences
and tends to say the wrong thing.
Who gets in his head,
misses what you said,
misconstrues what you meant.
Who's sneaking desperate looks
while seeming to listen,
searching for the phone booth
they long ago removed.
I heard an interview with the stand-up comic Moshe Kasher, who described the intoxicating feeling of being up in front of a crowd getting laughs. Which resonated a little with me, because I'm better in groups than one-on-one. And always trying to get laughs, as if being funny (which I’m not sure I even am!) is my secret super-power. But most of, how I feel I've been performing all my life: someone on the spectrum working hard and doing his best to pass for normal.
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