The clown sits on a piss-stained toilet in an empty
bathroom, head in hands,
repetitive praying on each heartbeat like a mantra
that no one else enters. Empty blue
baggie floats on the water,
it could be weeks until payday.
The room smells like shit, either
permanent or from the last person
there. He says it won't continue, gives
thanks to God in his needy moment. But
he's a liar.