Back in elementary school,
Fourth grade I think it was,
I had this friend, Ethan.
During lunch hour, we used to go to Eighth Street
For pizza and jelly doughnuts.
Sometimes we got an Orange Julius instead of the doughnuts.
Sometimes we would get the doughnuts,
But instead of eating them,
We'd put them out on the street
And wait for cars to drive over them.
But the most fun we ever had was,
After eating,
Sitting on a stoop,
Discussing sexual fantasies.
Sometimes they involved one of our classmates, Sometimes it was a movie star,
And sometimes it was our teacher,
Who we both suspected was sexually repressed.
Sometimes I claimed my stories were true.
Like the story about the Leather Clown.
She had short, spiky black hair;
Small, but perfectly formed breasts;
And was always fitted out in the same outfit:
A leather skirt,
Fishnet stockings,
Floppy shoes,
A big red nose,
A riding crop,
A silly hat,
A pair of leather wrist bracelets with spikes,
A big red smile painted on,
And a big shiny horn,
Which she would honk and honk during sex,
Until she had an orgasm.
Whenever the circus would come to town,
I would tell Ethan
All kinds of kinky clown domination stories
Involving the Leather clown,
Like the time she forced me to have sex with her
In the little car,
Or the time she kept spraying me with the seltzer bottle
Until I obeyed her every command.
Ethan and I
Would laugh and laugh at these tall tales,
But I could tell that deep down,
He was wondering
Whether the Leather clown was really real or not.
And I would let him wonder.
I don't know what Ethan's doing now.
He probably works with computers
And spends a lot of time at the circus.
I know I do.