i.
I’m changing my name to Jet
much as Chester becomes Chet
Jester (which is my real name) becomes Jet
So you can call me Jet
Or if you are in the throes of passion or laughter
you can call me Jester
“Oh, Jester, Oh, Jester, you fool.” and such
But otherwise just call me Jet
It has a dashing, masculine sound
it’s brief
even though my vocation is to look at unpleasant truths
I need to wear glasses because of subtle self-abuse
at least I haven’t done it enough to go blind
(I do have to shave my palms but it’s all in my mind)
A Jester’s tools are pantomime and funny rhymes
and juggling the truth and jokes
and being as charming as a child with the fun he pokes.
But you can call me Jet
and when you do it snap your fingers
ii.
When I danced like a fool
on South Padre Island of the Mind
it was raining, as I recall
the coast was weeping
there was tangible lonliness
the cracked suspicion
that you would never see the sun again
and your hopes wash up on the beach
like jellyfish abandoned little clowns
exploding in rapture at the
foolishness of life.
the rasp of Saturdays
shriveled and puffed from the night before
the olive still has vinegar
even when the martini is drained
and the fruits are beached
and ravished by oxygen
fools and organisms
living on tubes
and prayers
tubes won’t save the Pope
and Janis is in heaven without a liver
when you ain’t got nothin’ you got nothin’
to lose in a head on collision but
your transplanted air bags
and the delicate suspension of life
on its gymbals some
gyroscopic balance
that requires no wires
and the illusion
is right before your eyes
iii.
here’s the deal
the Fool tells it like it is
that’s why he wears the funny hat
so that everybody will know
not to pay attention to what he says
but the fool is the only one
who can tell the king
that he has bad breath
without heads rolling
So, I’m being the fool today
It’s April 1st, my day
I’m going to tell it like it is
this is the truth, children
everybody lies
whether by a subtle puff of their resume
denying culpability for a fart
or saying that they don’t masturbate or eat boogers
or when they compliment bad art
everybody lies
everybody is selfish
despite
extravagant protestations
effusive lamentations
and demonstrations
of praying in public
everybody is selfish
We all want something for nothing
it’s the pasture of the con man
but the Fool is unconnable
he wants nothing for something
oh yes, fools, drunks and little children
are bearers of the truth
in absurditas veritas
they catch the tiger by the tooth
