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The Temperature Drops Twenty Degrees

clowns from the circus
are running out of time
they never really existed
so it appears impossible
that nothing could be worse than this
everyone makes excuses for
the happy fellows
they have superhuman powers
and suddenly you want to join them
regardless of the consequences
you don't want to work for
the young deaf-mutes
who silently discuss you at meetings
and just keep drinking
no matter what
you feel ashamed
you've been hired to kill
the happy old ladies
who drink blood
they keep asking for water
you try to hide from them
clouds shaped like circus tents drift by
you spy on the paraplegics
with scarred bodies
they ask unanswerable questions
well, you can't stop wanting them
no matter what excuses you invent
you may as well forget your training
the old clowns
follow you everywhere
they have asked about you
your bosses never lie
the hot night wraps around your throat
and one of them tells you
you can't escape your destiny
while it's still dark
who can't stop laughing
dance slowly in the rain
regardless of your feelings
and written on the street in blood you see
this, too, shall pass
you can't believe
wishing won't make it true
are subtly seductive
they are only kidding
and don't really exist
there is a sudden silence
and it seems unlikely
you can't escape your destiny

A. L. Lashmit


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