I can't quite explain why I have no stories.
No funny intro to my life, all the time I have spent
in all the years you never knew me,
Or in yesterday, or the day before.

I didn't do nothing, you know.
Though my funny bone is brittle
and my life tellable only in episodes, hurtling towards—
—more episodes to come.

Perhaps I'm too predictable once you get used to me; Yet

when you rewind to episode two or three for that joke—whatsit—
you'll have forgotten I used to be like that.