Monday, May 23, 2011

The Circus

I get my nose pierced by an old lady
with pointy knitting needles.
I get a tattoo of flying dust clouds full of mustangs
from an old basketball coach.
I breathe in the sweet, humid air spiked with sawdust.
I walk past the center stage throwing shadows
through the crowded grandstand.
I walk by the red striped awning of a cart hooked
to a swinging lantern.

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