Sad Clown

Afternoons at the Bigtop.
Around town stupidity,
and stale old popcorn.
An old dancer balances
on a tired elephant.
I too
should be afraid of
imminent knowledge.

The sad clown doesn't wear a frown.
She can make you laugh.
She can make you smile.

Calming melodies drift late
one night
outside of the constant show.
She cried because it was lyrics
of truth muddled
in basic lessons
of all of these crowded streets
filled with people
who need to be entertained.

She remembers colored balloons
and performers
who brought an overcoming joy
even when the circus was cancelled.

Her heart reminds her
late at night
what isn't funny
anymore.

Pale, comical...
snarky, and offensive.
Sunshine burns her skin
just so she can feel
something else.
She is dim.
Rising the curtain
just so you can watch her
fall down.
Applaud.
Slap your knee.
Isn't this grief hilarious?