clown days

you come home
from work,
and take off
your clown
suit, the fat
red nose.
the water
flower from
your lapel.
you wipe the
make up off
your face,
then fling
your floppy
shoes to the
corner and sit
there in your
yellow silk
suit, like
a deflated
banana after
a long hard
day where
no one laughed.
bastards.
you get up and
fix yourself
a drink
pulling off your
orange fright
wig. there has
to be better
way you think
to yourself,
a better way.
coal mining
crosses your mind.