I met a clown in plain clothes
drinking in a bar – of course.
He told me a kid once asked him
“Are you a real clown?
Underneath the make up?”
and he didn’t know how to answer.
He said clowns were angry.
They’d been demonized,
no longer booked for parties.
So angry he had a mind to find
Stephen King’s house and stand
outside just pointing. In the rain.
“Everyone used to love clowns…”
I’m not cruel – I didn’t tell him
no one ever found them funny.
“… and women – they always love clowns!”
Amen to that. I called for another beer
and bought him a drink with an umbrella.