art by Molly Crabapple
I’m tired of the jokes people make
about not getting bent out of shape.
You wouldn’t believe the questions –
I keep people guessing.
I’m here because I don’t want a normal life;
that and because of the Knife Thrower,
there was an incident
or two, or maybe three.
I was far from innocent, you see.
And I didn’t want a normal life.
I had beautiful, long, Rapunzel-like hair;
like Lady Godiva, it’d be all I’d wear
sometimes. It made my act attract
more attention than I could stand.
There was a man
or two or maybe three.
One night, finally,
I’d had it. I blamed
above all else my glorious mane
for causing me such heartache and woe.
I cut it all off while the tightrope walker walked
That night I’d wished I were dead.
I’d had my heart broken for the 100th time.
Most suspected the Midway Boss undermined
the whole affair.
Whatever the case, it undermined my hair.
I pretend and grin and then
I pretend to grin again.