Robin

The next time
I come back
I will paint allegories.

Faces of clowns
will not be enough.

I was walking the dog
at 11:30 AM this morning.
You were still alive Pacific
Time to my Chicago Time.

I was thinking that if someone
were to ask, I’d tell them that
when the black dog visits, I think
of my children and go paint
another nose
red.

Fucking is easier
to understand
than an allegory.

In the 1960’s clowns
were everywhere. There
was Bozo, Sheriff John,
Hobo Kelly, Clarabell.

Do you know why?

Because the nation was
like Pig Pen with a cloud
of flees over our head and
we clutched close
to our blanket like Linus.

And now I hear
from Big Brother
that you are gone.
The rusted cranky bird is dead.
RIP someone posted.

I thought of a joke.
The main character rips one
and the fake audience laughs.
And laughs.
And laughs.

Even though it is not funny anymore.