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He was a boy when the circus first came to the dust of his West Texas town.
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And twenty years later, he'd spent twenty years as Jocko the Sad Circus Clown.
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He did slap-stick gags in grease paint and rags and the people would laugh 'til they cried.
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But they never saw past the painted clown mask to the sad, empty man locked inside.
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The trapeze lady swung easy and gracefully, high in the high trapeze swing.
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Her parents were flyers. The circus was her life. The carny was deep in her veins.
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High in the spotlights in sequins and pink tights, she flew like a bird in the wind.
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The saw dust's on daughter, the strong men who caught her were all that she brought to her tent.
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Jocko worked down with the center ring clowns with a sad painted smile on his face
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And the trapeze lady swung easy and gracefully high in the great canvas space.
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Jocko looked up with a tear in his heart and, Lord, he wished he could fly
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For she never looked down at a baggy pants clown who looked up with love in his eyes.
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It was Tulsa, the last stop, the last show of the big top, a loud, sell-out crowd filled the seats.
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They clapped for the walk-around and cheered for the clowns. The fliers brought them to their feet.
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Then a still half-lit match fell in tender dry grass and soon found the dry saw dust floor.
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The flames leaped higher. When the people heard, "Fire!" they swept like a wave for the door.
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Jocko looked up to the top of the tent and a hundred feet from the ground
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Swung the trapeze lady, up on the high swing, alone, with no way to get down.
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He ran to the ladder that led to the platform, she cried, "Jocko, no! There's no time!"
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But her quick word of fear fell deaf on love's ear as slowly he started to climb.
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Hand over hand to the high flier's stand, taking the rope that hung there
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With one quick look down, the sad circus clown looked up and took to the air.
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Slow then slowly he started to swing, his eyes turned to tears in the smoke.
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Faster then faster and as he swung past her, her strong flier hands found the rope.
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She slipped to the ground as the flames found the rigging and licked at the rope that he held.
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He'd started below when the rigging let go and down to the saw dust he fell.
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She ran to his side and with tears in her eyes, "Oh, no! Jocko, why?" she cried.
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He raised his sad head. "I loved you," he said and he closed his eyes and he died.
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Now, the trapeze lady swings easy and gracefully high in the great canvass space.
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But a place and a time are still etched in her mind of a smile painted on a sad face.
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And she sometimes looks down to the center ring clowns for someone she never has found.
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For she still remembers the time when love came to her wearing the face of a clown.
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JOCKO AND THE TRAPEZE LADY
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| Dick Feller |
