Mario Micallef ’22
Peer across the deserted circus.
Its tittinope floors with abandoned popcorn and cotton candy strewn about.
Left by shifty poltroonery children.
Sodas dropped and split in haste across the sticky floor cry out:
Why oh why weren’t we guzzled like the prophecies spake?
Mr. Clown in the bathroom, stares at the mirror, water running in the sink.
One soap bar drowns, lounges and birthes bubbles.
The round red nose shines bright in the chaos of white paint.
All the coloring could wash away but the honky nose would never tardy the clowns reflection.
Then his good, long nose friend came tumbling in, smelling like the decaying tile floor.
With his many tons of water weight and thick grey skin,
He leaned over the urinal and made some crack about the bearded martian twins.
Each step shakes the room as the musophobia stricken employee flees
Without washing any four of his feet.
Mr. Clown cries out with soap in his eyes, underneath the sink faucet:
What’s at stake to wake up to your stench and make a clean take of my soap?
His long nose friend trumpheted and chortled:
For peanuts my foolish comrade;
Exchange your infamous red gewgaw and I will bathe
To smell finer than the sweet Madame whose veins’ course perfume.
The clown spoke as the white paint dripped down his chin:
Not a chance in this world will I remove my red nose.
Not a chance in this world will I remove my heart.
For my red nose keeps the world from coming apart