bill

it's five minutes to midnight

and i'm taking a clown's advice,

it's laced with ennui and cynicism
and dick jokes that

we can both laugh at.

i buy him a meal because

i can see that he has been crying,

and over his black coffee steam 

he tells me to abandon the tightrope

and hitch myself to a carny

cos the best any of us 

can expect is mud.

outside the world remains 

ringleader distant, and it's late but there

is still news to deliver.

i promise to plant mushrooms

on his grave so he can carry on

entertaining the living.