#poetry, Uncategorized

I stand in a clown store

and ask the question that needed to be asked.

Are we still used at children’s parties?


I suppose it doesn’t matter.

My face is still painted-

bright red hue against cracked lips.

They have touched the tip of the cold for too long

without ever truly freezing.


Perhaps if I was there,

I would not be here

in a store of hidden figures

waiting to crawl into silly striped overalls.


It will close down soon,

customers scarce.

No longer a clown store,

and then where will I go to paint my face?


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