Poetry Challenge 5.0, Day 2

Ahhh, so here it is, 10:30 PM, and I have yet to write today's poem.  I suppose I should get started on that, yes??  OK, since you asked so nicely, I will.

There's an old joke:  A man walks into his therapist's office and say, "Doctor, I feel depressed."  The therapist listens to him, and after some serious thinking, he says, "You should go and see the great clown, Pastorini - he's in town this weekend."  The man begins sobbing uncontrollably.  Between his sobs, he says, "Doctor, I AM Pastorini!"

The Sad Clown

Thunderous applause is to me empty,
     vacant, stopped in my ears
     like so much heavy smoke
     that clings to the room of small rooms,
     trapped, never escaping,
     staining all it touches,
     only to be wiped away by the maid.

I take a bow,
     but it is shallow,
     a hollow reminder
     of a performance built entirely on falsehood,
     receiving the false calls of those
     only wanting to escape their lives for a little while.

I exit the stage
     the theatre marquis only tells of the character,
     not the man.
     unknown on the street,
     i am nothing.

I am alone.


Whenever I hear the joke mentioned above, I wonder how the clown would describe himself and his situation.  I wonder if anyone would understand the clown, and how he would feel.  This is one take on the possibilities of it.  I hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid