The Punchline
- The Punchline
You know I’m actually not who I appeared to be kidding. I’m actually not sure this was my idea of a good time, not sure what’s exactly what in the glass elevator whose bellied window swerves your face away from your face. I’m actually not sure why the spot I want lies always in the pinched gutter of the map. Where I found you, who were so sweet to me. I’m actually not sure who’s stepping off last. I’m actually not joking, actually not a person
who isn’t a person but a stream of perceptions without a cohesive self. A cipher. A stretch. (I’m actually not going to tell you the original.) I’m actually not going to flinch; stand as close as you want. I’m actually not an emotional isolate, not afraid of loss bearing my way, actually not a blue and stately snowdrift, a single clear idea, a mind’s pale erg. If I nail the lead-in, people just die laughing. I’m actually not about to break character. Lose my number. I’m actually not
John Casteen [End Page 167]
John Casteen is the author of two books of poems, Free Union (Georgia, 2009) and For the Mountain Laurel (Georgia, 2011). He has contributed poems to the Paris Review, the Southern Review, Ploughshares, Fence, and elsewhere, and his work has been anthologized in Best American Poetry. He teaches at the University of Virginia.
