The plight of the Sundayman.

We wonder, let us pray
If we may,
reason with you
Only for a little while
It won’t take long.
Let us wonder why
The sundayman
Has vanished
Out of existence.

As a kid
He loved ice cream
Doggies and kittens
Playing in the garden
And seeing momma
Happy and perky.
Now this was a problem
Because momma
That little bitch
Was a depressed
and melancholy
Woman with issues
And an alcoholic.
She should never have had
Little innocent children
Like the Sundayman
And his little pale sister

But since the world is not
At all perfect, in fact
Not even close,
She did.

He grew up angry
He didn’t go to the army
He didn’t study at university
He plainly didn’t know
What to do.

One day, he got
Himself a girl.
She was real pretty.
She told him
You have a funny face
Maybe you should
be a clown, with make-up
splattered over your face
a battlefield of white and red.
So that’s what he did.
It wasn’t a good decision
Because when he saw
He was good at what he did
Making them hurl with laughter
He couldn’t stop
Even though it killed him
When he did it.

His girl left him
He soon got a new one
And another one,
But the days grew shorter
And soon,
All was cold and dark.

So one day,
After a long and tiresome show
He threw a rope
Around the tree
Next to his trailer
And a little later
Hung on it,
By his neck,
He closed his eyes,
Maybe shat his pants,
And never again smiled.

His death was a joke
His life a dumb mistake
A clown and a jester
No more for him
When he laughed
And they all did too
He’d already died.