their broken hearts, their painted smiles, their giant feet of clay.
Or else we scare ourselves to death with demon clowns galore;
making them the bogeyman that hides behind each door.
But really all a clown can be is just himself, or her;
trying to get through their life when it speeds to a blur.
The clown may be symbolic of so much to academics,
but it boils down to nothing more than bickering polemics.
You cannot pin a laugh down like a beetle in a box;
so say not that he was a clown . . . but just ran out of clocks.
(dedicated to the memory of Pat Cashlin)
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