Laughing at Myself

Laughing at Myself
I have made a comfortable career
out of laughing at myself,
taking every failure and the whole embarrassed shelf,
serving it up to strangers like a gift they didn’t ask for,
watching them laugh, watching them exhale.

The things I find most shameful
are always the funniest in the room,
the things I tried to hide the longest
are the ones that consume
the most specific way—
the self-deprecating bit is how I earn my pay.

There is freedom in the choice
to open up the wound first,
to laugh before the audience finds it
and buries you in the shame of being seen,
unprepared,
the comedian who goes first is never scared.

I have laughed at my divorce,
my weight,
my indecision,
my father’s early exit,
my mother’s collision
with a practice of parenting that nobody intended,
and in the laughing all of it
was partially mended.