I’m the guest of honor at every abandoned party,
the father of every runaway bride.
Sometimes I wonder

as I groom myself for nothing,
is it worth it?

If nothing else there are funerals
I tell myself, and by and by
I go searching for them,

somehow seconds late for the service
as the mourners file into their cars

deaf to my sorrys
which are doused in the rain
that begins to fall like jester dust.

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