Red Light Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The only evidence that he was once
A clown,
Was the way the bright pastels swirled
In the waters running under his chin.
Where he sat down and knelt
In the shadow of the bridge
While the gondolas paraded
Young love before him-
She was a garish whore
Neon in that window above
Where he sat,
A kitten in the crooked purr of her lap:
She invited men in suited and fine,
And mimed the Kama Sutra
Seven to midnight,
And afterwards....
And after that,
The moon a drunken midge on the
Nape of the Negroid Sea,
She would clock out and waltz
And read Swan’s Way
On the park bench under the tree
Nearby where he sold balloons,
Sold them for free....
And his love was for free.
Shouldn’t she take his open hand
Offered for her
Near the park bench under the tree?
Laughing,
He would kneel to her and say,
“Won’t you have me,
Right now- Hurry....”
But she couldn’t imagine what he
Could mean,
For love was such a dispassionate
Lucrative thing.
For she had many suitors,
Pomaded and fine
They strutted up to her room
At all sorts of odd times....
And she shouldn’t give her heart to
Just any old man,
Especially a clown with balloons in his hand.
And this is why he is crying in the river tonight,
Faceless and hopeless,
As love floats away,
She turns on the red light,
Beckoning strays.