never during our courting
or in the 28 years of dinners
car trips or tv watching
did he say “have you heard
the one about . . .?”
now he collects them like
used stamps old coins
in new albums in his mind
ready to pull on out for a quick tell
they’re clean but getting riskier
as success makes him bolder
still goofy dad gags
mixed with some shaggers and daggers
he must have heard somebody
tell one in a crowded room
that chased away awkwardness
someone boosted by laughter
lifted from anonymity
allowed to move up the ladder
and escape the floodwaters
of social obscurity
but I see calculation in his new venture
one or two witty tales at the most
enough to gain a free pass into
the trendy level of a group
perhaps “funny old Joe” fears that
saying a few more might push
him nearer those sweaty stage lights
closer to the single bright spotlight
of crowd-pleasing attention
with no guarantee
there won’t be deafening silence