Holding Punchlines

I’ve calmed down in recent years. 

I used to get into verbal fights, but I’ve learned to hold my punch lines.

It’s not so easy -  sometimes, they write themselves. 

I have a friend named Joy, who's diagnosed with depression. 

I’ve taken a cooking class from a vegetarian kid named Hunter.

Heck, my name is Tanner, and I’m white as snow.

When my blind buddy raised his hand in Calculus and said,

“I don’t see the point,”

I didn’t even smirk. 

I don’t comment on pedestrian chickens, 

Never speak a word about people walking into bars, 

Forget asking about yo mama, I stick to paternal questions.

I’ve come a long way, I think.

I especially don’t make fat jokes. 

Well I’ve never made fat jokes.

I know they’d haunt me for forever, 

Because elephants never forget. 

Editor’s note: Tanner would like to give a “shout out” to Daniel Teets’ poem, “Bad at Writing” for inspiring the syntax and diction used in this poem.