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Saturday, August 05, 2006

Ferris Wheel Turning

The sky is afire with noise and technicolor signs
Sweat beads on the faces of carnival workers
The show is busy and long are the lines
Diamonds gleam like the eyes of shadow lurkers

Calliope dances in the childrens' playground minds
Hobo clowns on stilts, hop along drunk and singing
The air smells of sugar, beer, and stale pork rinds
Kids swat at the air, the mosquitos are stinging

The beared ladies convene behind the old red curtain
One Armed Jack smokes a cigarello beside the orange shack
Tophat Tim checks his watch for an hour, uncertain
A tattoo of a no faced Jesus stretches long down his back

Funhouse mirrors bend minds like aluminum spoons
Music, like cotton candy, linger dirty and sweet sticky
The dusty floors are covered with pieces of animan balloons
Your pockets are empty but the children stay picky

The night's at an end and the goat man waves and smiles
Laughter and cries lay muffled behind the heavy drapes
The carnival freaks hustle like happy slaves down the aisles
To their wooden cages, to dream like tired human apes.

-AP 08-05-06

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