CARE ENOUGH NOT TO CARE
it was some of the worst anxiety i’ve ever felt. why on earth did i think i could do this? what had possessed me to sign up for this course? eight weeks of commuting to another state and living in a tralier with my toxic boyfriend to study… clown through mask? what does that even MEAN? this had to be one of my worst decisions. the class wasn’t what i expected at all. i’m happy to walk a color through my body or make blobs in the space, but… i was not prepared to…. share.
it’s your turn, baba. everyone has taken their turn except for you. it’s monday night and class is almost over for the week. maybe if you shrink yourself in your chair, they’ll forget you and you can just go back to baltimore and maybe just quit the class and be done. donna won’t let you.
“if you don’t do your turn now, you’ll be walking around in that mask all week! you’ll be stuck!”
oh gods i can’t carry such heaviness for so long. i have to take my turn. i can’t. but i have to.
step behind the curtain - a sheet between two lamps. in unison the rest of the class begins singing “entrance of the gladiators” and clapping in time. breathe the red nose on. breathe through your mouth. shake yourself out, let the mask flow through.
when you step out from behind the curtain, the singing will stop abruptly and you will have a conversation with only breath and eyes. oh and the worms wrapped up in your bandana.
you were ready. you weren’t funny. you were poetry. when you weren’t looking, you found the clown.
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