Dick
He was a boy when the circus came to the dust of his West Texas town. And years later, he'd spent twenty years as Jocko the Sad Circus Clown. He did gags in grease paint and rags and the people would laugh 'til they cried. But they never saw past the painted mask to the sad, empty man locked inside.
The trapeze lady swung easy and gracefully, in the high trapeze swing. Her were flyers. The circus was her life. The carny was deep in her veins. High in the spotlights in sequins and pink tights, she flew a bird in the wind. The saw dust's on daughter, the men who caught her were all that she brought to her tent.
Jocko worked down with the ring clowns with a sad painted smile on his face And the lady swung easy and gracefully high in the great canvas space. Jocko looked up with a tear in his heart and, Lord, he he could fly For she never looked at a baggy pants clown who looked up with love in his eyes.
It was Tulsa, the last stop, the last show of the big top, a loud, sell-out crowd the seats. They clapped for the walk-around and cheered for the clowns. The fliers them to their feet. Then a still match fell in tender dry grass and soon found the dry saw dust floor. The flames leaped higher. When the people heard, "Fire!" they swept like a for the door.
Jocko up to the top of the tent and a hundred feet from the ground Swung the trapeze lady, up on the high swing, alone, no way to get down. He ran to the that led to the platform, she cried, "Jocko, no! There's no time!" But her quick word of fear fell deaf on ear as slowly he started to climb.
Hand hand to the high flier's stand, taking the rope that hung there With one look down, the sad circus clown looked up and took to the air. Slow then slowly he started to swing, his eyes turned to in the smoke. Faster then faster and as he past her, her strong flier hands found the rope.
She slipped to the ground as the flames found the rigging and licked at the that he held. He'd below when the rigging let go and down to the saw dust he fell. She ran to his side and tears in her eyes, "Oh, no! Jocko, why?" she cried. He raised his sad head. "I loved you," he said and he his eyes and he died.
Now, the trapeze lady swings easy and high in the great canvass space. But a place and a time are still etched in her mind of a smile on a sad face. And she sometimes looks down to the center ring for someone she never has found. For she still remembers the time love came to her wearing the face of a clown.