Almost a cartoon of primary colors
yellow and blue with touches of red
there is a clown, a ring master, an acrobat
a woman dare-devil dancing on the back of a horse
musicians and a well-dressed audience.

The circus has always been portrayed as a way to escape
the boredom of the ordinary, employing intrepid tales
of those who run off and join the circus to see the world.
Most children love the excitement of the circus.

I never liked the circus even as a child with its false gaiety
and its feats of daring, never found humor in “my circus self.”
The acrobats do not amuse, they make me squeezy.
The trapeze artists do not thrill, they make my stomach turn.
The slap-stick clowns do not make me laugh, they make me sad.

No one runs off and joins the library and yet there is more
of the world there than in the con of a circus.
Still, we cling to those tired old worn-out metaphors
as if we are just too lethargic, too caught up in our own
mundane lives to find new ones.