Ain't Life Sweet

I drive past the clown every day. He shills for some flower shop, standing on the sidewalk holding their stupid sign, waving to the cars that couldn't care less. In sun, in rain, in snow. Of course, I only see him at rush hour, which is when I go past.

And when I do, I see him looking enviously at me. Maybe it's the fact that I always have at least two women in the car, different ones all the time. Or just the car itself, as luxury as you can get, though not a sports car, which wouldn't be roomy enough for my purposes.

But maybe it's just the fact that I got out, while he's trapped. Trapped where I used to be. And he has to watch me in his car, with his women.

Ain't life sweet.

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The Den of Ubiquity/ Aaron V. Humphrey /