Crafty's Welcoming

A beet red nose, 

from the underside of a dark sunset. 

The laughter of children half his age, 

the screams to endear the sight to behold. 

The clown stood, 

motion deceived, 

for he was not it. 

He shuddered a laugh of his own, 

not for himself, 

but for the children he stands on top of. 

What a brute! 

Who is he but to shoot! 

A cigarette flipped, 

the leavings of the gently night light gone. 

The carousel wasn't far, 

but he said one:

 "Have your fun; I have only begun yet, you have seen the least of me!

You have seen the most, 

but not for long!" 

He shuttered a final croak of laughter, 

flipped a last flaming poke, 

and strode into the pulsing light.