Wasteland Circus

Colorful streamers wrapped around your empty mind,
floating waving, like dancing ladies with body paint smudged in every crevice and crease.
A rainbow of sexy crayola crayons.

You’d wish me away if you could, make me disappear.
Disaster, like a hole in your wooden canoe.
I’m your tragic wasteland, becoming nothing and taking
you with me away down endless nowheres.
You hide behind mimes because you don’t want
people to know who you really are,
ruby red nose and all.

But what do you do when everybody stops laughing,
when the stage lights go out,
when the man in gray overalls finishes
scooping up elephant shit and goes to bed.
What do you do then?
Do you play with your streamers,
counting the minutes till you see me again.
Do you scream louder than the lions–
a mercy cry out to your audience?

Cotton candy mouth, popcorn eyes,
you’re full of surprises, you clown.

Writers note: I don’t know what inspired this poem tonight. I sat down to write, listening to some new music, and this is what came out. This is one of the first times I have written about the invisible “you” without knowing who that “you” is. An interesting practice in writing: creating an unknown “you.”

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