Today we mourn the death of a clown. We adorn our fanciest makeup and brightest wigs.
Our bowties spin and our rubber noses squeak, and the horns’ honks are very loud.

From our tiny cars, we tumble and slip and dance and fall over our floppy shoes.
We glide on banana peels and crash into whip-laden coconut cream pies.

We wrestle to our seats. Pushing, shoving, eye-poking, seltzer spraying.
Loud farts echo as whoopee cushions compress beneath our butts.

The priest takes the alter, but a bull charges and chases him away.
Replaced with a mime, the service finally begins.

Pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling
Handkerchiefs from our sleeves

We wipe each other’s tears
And flip over the casket

So we can say
Goodbye.