A Street Clown Named Dennis
has he got
the balls
to juggle?
doesn’t he
have
balloons?
only a knife
and a photo
of his mother
not meeting
their gaze
only walking by,
fixed eyes on
the horizon
he walks down the block party
where mothers
hold children in fear
and Dennis is in a trance
dancing toward
the uncertain nothing to leave
toward another town
start anew
parties in high rise apartments
of fashionably well-to-do
with a mason jar of beetles
and a guitar with one string
the toast of
Bean Town
or Broadway
the life of
the pity party
the talk of
small town U.S.A.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
