Looking out from the launch
Swans were gliding on by
There were boats on the water
And more birds in the sky
Kids were down by the boatramp
Sailing boats  of all kinds
they were captains and pirates
At least in their minds
The small lake was covered
With vessels galore
And up past the boat ramp
You could rent out some more
Paddle boats sat *******
Waiting till late in the day
When the weather was better
And the swans were away
Further on up the shore
Sat an old french fry stand
The fries were just perfect
But, their burgers were bland
Cotton Candy as well
Made their menu  a treat
And the old carny posters
Made the building complete
When the park was first christened
seventy years or so back
The fry stand was opened
They just sold "******* Jack"
As time passed it added
More items to buy
Like their bland old hamburgers
And their fantastic fries
The posters were left
From an old carny show
They had amazing old pictures
Of the geeks, so you'd go
To attract some attention
They stuck some on the side
Like "Phillip" the lizard
And his hairy faced bride
Away just a bit,
Were some rides all closed down
There were bumper cars, zipper
and a train back to town
They were all closed and shuttered
And weren't used any more
And the train had stopped running
Not long after the war
By the boat dock, a building
Full of lockers to use
There was just enough room
For your clothes and some shoes
A quarter would rent one
If you wanted to store
Your valuable items
While you went by the shore
In the afternoon sun
When the kids came from school
You could buy some balloons
And get face painting too
Clarence, just Clarence
made balloons every day
He made whatever you wanted
And took whatever you'd pay
He'd paint up their faces
Make them scary or sweet
And he did it each day
with clown shoes on his feet
Clarence, just Clarence
was there every day
He showed up around lunchtime
In the heat of the day
No one knew Clarence
By any more than
Clarence, just Clarence
The smiling old man
For thirty odd years
He'd come down to the park
Showing up around noon-ish
And not leaving till dark
He took what you'd pay
For his air filled  creations
Making creatures galore
From his imagination
He'd buy fries for his lunch
And a coke to wash down
The bland hamburgers
That were just flavored...brown
He created more smiles
Than anyone by the lake
Painting faces for children
He never made a mistake
His wasn't a fortune
But at the end of the day
He'd made money and smiles
And they were worth more than pay
When the boats were all stored
And the fry stand was closed
All the boats were locked up
And the sidewalks were hosed
Clarence, just Clarence
took two quarters in hand
And he went to the lockers
Behind the boat rental stand
Inside, there were showers
And a bench just to sit
And he'd open two lockers
And he'd think for a bit
He'd wash off his face paint
Change his clothes of the day
Then he'd switch them for others
He had lockered away
See, Clarence..just Clarence
spent his life in the park
Making smiles in daylight
And he slept here when dark
He locked his persona
In locker nineteen
And he took a small pack out
All camoflauge green
he left the small building
And went down by a light
There he spread out the contents
Of his pack, for the night
A blanket, one pillow
Just the size for his head
Then on the hard bench
He'd lie down...go to bed
He'd be gone the next morning
Before the park saw the sun
He would gather his pack up
And he'd be off on the run
As the weather got colder
He'd find a tropical place
To find one more park
Where he could paint one more face
He'd leave here each winter
But be back in the spring
His life was a circle
You know...that has a nice ring.
So, Clarence, just Clarence
made balloons and made smiles
And he lived in two parks
Spread over miles and miles
No one knew Clarence
Or just where he came from
but Clarence, just Clarence
will be missed when he's gone.

August 28, 1922.** Clarence Samuels is holding his wife’s hand, she’s groaning out limbs by the minute, pushing hard enough for life to cry out of her. He can no longer feel his fingertips from the vice grip she has on his knuckles, but that is just one more piece of himself he would give for his family.
November 16, 1924. Clarence’s daughter is over two years old, and they are taking walks to the beach. She takes interest in a dark feathered bird with a snowy underbelly like the way God only sees things in black or white, its combination of threat and promise. She asks Clarence what it is, says she would like to have one, would like to be one. But he notices, those birds only come around when it’s raining and he hasn’t seen the storm clouds yet.
March 31st, 1925. The Samuels’ daughter hasn’t stopped vomiting in two days, her radiance turning achromatic. The doctors have been prescribing medication but nothing seems to work because she cannot keep down any form of help. So Clarence starts looking up that shadowy bird they saw in the fall. Maybe that could take her mind off her affliction, maybe it would help him too.
September 4, 1925. Clarence now whispers “I love you” like the flickering flames of prayer candles, but hasn’t seen the inside of a chapel since the funeral, since he stopped being able to look into his wife’s eyes. His days are filled with sacrilegious drunk, his kitchen floor littered with whiskey labels and scotch tops, wondering what he is if not slain by this everything holy. He’s scrawling out letters to his daughter on the napkins he took from under his drinks at the bar. He’s got enough to write a book or his suicide letter.
September 30, 1925. Clarence notices that instead of crawling out of bed, the bed is crawling away from him. He chokes on the muscle memory he still retains when he walks into his daughters empty room, now turned office because his wife seems to be the only one working, the only thing still working. On the desk is his research of the bird that haunts him since that November, the Parasitic Jaeger. Their name begs question of the godless nights spent bent wave sea sick over the toilet seat, innards cascading past the roof of his mouth, making friends with the holes in his teeth. He has managed to drink himself swiss bone garden.
October 1, 1925. Clarence walks to the beach, clutching a picture of his daughter. He planned on drowning himself in the tide to mimic her, choked up on bile and lungs. Before he stepped foot in the water, the Parasitic Jaeger flew past him chasing a gull.
October 1st, Clarence went home and slept.
October 2nd, Clarence returned to the beach all guilt and full body, BAC hitting a record .25 and he slipped into the sea only to watch the same Jaeger chasing another gull. Clarence watched as the gull emptied itself open casket into the water and flew away while the Jaeger feasted on the sick. Clarence took another small step into the shore line, now chest deep in more than regret. The bird turned his head slowly towards the human moving closer him. Clarence, open arms and locked eyes whispered, “I am sick too, do not forget me.”