I walk down the street as a little boy

in between my parents

and in the shadow of a tall building.

It's daytime. In front of the building,

resting against a stone wall,

is a circus clown.

His ankles are crossed,

as are his arms across his chest.

He isn't scary-looking,

but I don't want to go near him.

He looks at us as we walk past.

He waves at me and says,

"Hello, little boy, hello."

Once I'm awake, I ask my mother

when we took this walk.

She doesn't know what

I'm talking about.