Summary

A poignant encounter at a grocery store between two individuals, one a clown, both grappling with their internal struggles and the search for happiness amidst personal hardships.

Abstract

The narrative unfolds in a grocery store where the protagonist observes a clown amidst the Sunday shoppers. The clown's vibrant attire contrasts sharply with her inability to find happiness, symbolized by her empty shopping cart and the pain visible on her unmasked face. The protagonist empathizes with the clown, as they both navigate their own fragility and the effort to maintain composure. The clown's presence prompts a reflection on the commodification of happiness, the desire for comfort in the face of loss, and the societal discomfort with sadness. The protagonist, dealing with the cold reality of cancer, finds temporary solace in her story and the shared human experience of sorrow. The poem concludes with an interaction with a store worker, highlighting the absurdity of life and the facade of humor in the midst of suffering.

Opinions

The clown's inability to purchase happiness at the store reflects the idea that some forms of fulfillment and healing cannot be bought or easily obtained.
The protagonist's empathy towards the clown suggests a shared understanding of pain and the struggle to cope with life's challenges.
The poem conveys a critique of societal expectations to maintain a facade of happiness, even when facing personal tragedies.
The protagonist's cancer story is worn with anger and coldness, indicating a resistance to the societal pressure to view cancer as a badge of honor or to cover up the despair it brings.
The repeated interactions with store workers and the protagonist's internal monologue underscore the theme of feeling lost and the desire to be "checked out" of one's own painful existence.
The use of humor and the acknowledgment of life's absurdity serve as coping mechanisms, a way to navigate the often incomprehensible nature of suffering.

Poetry

Clowns Shopping for Happiness

What’s on sale

First I spotted her round rainbow-colors curly wig shouting in a sea of Sunday grocery shoppers Crooked tie Loose clown pants Her whole attire a funny lifting tune

But the only trick she was able to perform was she couldn’t conjure any happiness The cart she was pushing was empty she — full of loss her bare face was painted with pain the invisible ink failed to mask it

Oof Her sadness collided with mine fully head-on the hairline cracks inside of me burst into thousand needles of dying stars

Come We can huddle together in this corner and weep I have been trying to keep it all together since this morning This thin, thin thread holding everything inside of me is splitting-splitting-s p l i t t i n g strand-by-strand

Are you looking for the counter that sells happiness quick balms to numb your agony the miraculous glue to put everything back together a second chance one last embrace, one last look into the lost ones’ eyes?

Any fortune teller stations in the bakery? Telling me it will all work out in the end it be will fine, it will be fine, it will be fine — just eat some cakes

How many pounds of joy we need anyway to last us through all the heartbreaks and the hard times

Will it make it more acceptable to people less uncomfortable If we play the roles of the sad clowns?

Let me paint these drops of tear shapes under your eyes in a shade too dark for sorrow No paint in the world would be enough to cover the cosmics of our despair

Instead I let the whole of her walking brokenness glided past me My chemo-induced nerve-damaged hands were icy cold

My temporary salvation was lying at the bottom of my purse When I slip into my fingerless gloves I slip into my cancer story I slip into this cold but familiar sadness

Some people thought I should wear my cancer with pride Like it’s a badge of honor I don’t want this kind of honor — I wear mine with anger because if I don’t I would wear it with shame If I don’t burn it I would drown in it

I pushed my cart around for two hours stood in front of the fifty choices of coffee creamers and lost track of time even if I don’t drink coffee or creamer

Can I help you to find anything, Madam? The goodhearted workers asked Oh, but you don’t have it. You don’t have it. I am simply Lost Can you check me out? Check me out of this?

Check me out of (gesturing to my whole self) — this

Oh Madam you are funny You are really funny

Yes I am funny Haha Life is funny isn’t it Did you see the clown just now No? Never mind

Yes I found everything I needed