Clowns belong in space,
Greeting galaxies with asteroid balloons and cloud cotton candy,
Sore cheeks from cheap grins,
Insecurities hidden underneath face paint and a big red nose.
Imagine clowns in space,
Performing cartwheel after worry-free cartwheel,
They sit with their legs dangling from the crescent moon,
Back and forth their red gloves sway as they greet the Apollo 13.
If Clowns made it to space
They would hold tight to their pinwheel toy rocket,
Tossing their 80 proof before they reach the atmosphere,
Pondering their identities in the solitude of intoxication,
Thinking about the big apple circus on a waning gibbous,
The clowns with cheerful yet dejected ear to ear grins,
Their silhouettes reflecting off the moonlit oceans on earth.
It’s a funny sight, clowns in space,
Baby powdered faces with wide eye stares,
Pearly white smiles that portray happiness,
But nevertheless, they are frightened.
They consider a world without gluey-eyed children
Reaching out with their chubby fingers towards the popcorn and the elephants.
This scares the clowns,
So together the clowns stay in outer-space,