a few clowns short

In this act, you are the one who doesn't get hit. They throw all kinds of shit at you and the trick is that you knew where they were going. You'd be so pretty if, they say, and the knife lands a millimeter away. You never used to, they say, and that hits below the belt but it's still just a shade off. Four knives, five if you count the one, and every one of them is short of the target, because you were the target and you stood so still; you were always ready.

In the next act, you ride on the backs of lions, or horses in a pinch. It's always glamorous.

And now you conjure. In this world, you create empty spaces where people put their secret wishes and then you fill the emptiness. Flowers, a scarf, a rabbit: the thing that is missing. You return what you stole at the beginning. Or better you give back what they didn't know they lost, and they act like you did them a favor. It is not a surprise given your skills of prestidigitation that you would would always wind up with your own hands empty. You flourish.

And now the crystal ball. There will be a beautiful person, your other half, you say, and they look past your plain face and transparent tricks to this ideal. Elusive. You fill the space until the one they want is there. They trust you, believe you, they could sit at your table til dawn looking at the props you use to tell them what's obvious. When everything you said comes true they say they always knew it anyway. Shove some paper at you, and they are so gone they were never there, and later they swear they were never at the circus.

Then there's the trapeze. So many things to be balanced. And throughout, there are the moments where you stop and wait until they clap, and they clap until their arms ache, though what you love most is the moment before the first applause. And sometimes you do it knowing there will be no applause. That they will wander back into the dark and not even know what a show they saw, thinking that this is just how their lives go.

And then there is a tent, or some space, and there is something to take off the greasepaint, and then you go to bed. And tomorrow is another day.

Comments

[Corbin]

You should make it a point to hang out with the tattoo lady backstage. She has some good stories.