PAINTED ON MASK
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
My taxi came
What a game
The driver could hardly work the car
Upon each cheek he wore a star
And a large red nose stuck to his face
His neckline was of lace
But it was his shoes that made me laugh
They were the size of a bath
And the horn on his car was like no other
I just had to tell myself he’s someone’s father, Son or
brother
Why would he come to work like that?
And as for that hat!
Then I looked down to the car mat
That was that
Enough was enough
I had to get tough
I told him to stop the car on the rough
The grass was green
And that day was the funniest that has ever been
Stop clowning about
I had to shout
But that made him worse
As he burst into verse
No time to rehearse
I was his audience before the circus
© Fiona Cummings
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