Export: Writing the Midwest
Went to my favorite bar today
head to toe in a clown suit.
I walked through the door,
big feet and all, and not one face looked up.
I honked my nose,
drained a beer,
even made fun of the bar whores, laughing.
I played the worst songs I could find on the jukebox,
even sang along, still nothing.
People kept talking like soap opera stars
about politics, beauty pageants, and television shows.
You know, the important things.
So I said fuck it,
and took my big feet home.
I don’t know what this town’s coming to.
Back in my day, if some clown came in pulling that shit…
I’m just disappointed, that’s all.
Somebody really shoulda’ kicked my ass.
Previous Midwestern Writer Midwestern Writer Index Next Midwestern Writer