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.

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