Entangled in the power lines lies the balloon I bought for her at a carnival whose merry-go-round mirrors, riddled with holes, were spun by albinos like cotton candy. The eyeless clowns who clipped the high wire with elephantine scissors as we found our seats led us to a shooting range complete with deer, buffalo and a young farmer who casts flat shadows on his corn and begs us not to fire while a tramp sweeps the light and tents to dirt, wagon ruts. The skies aren't cloudy all day, but she's been kidnapped, detective. Amuse me with a solution: who becomes an aerialist, an artist of height? This is your center ring and your word is law. Show everyone that badge, show them a hundred times. Early autumn: we're reminded of the leaves. I return to my wife without our daughter. Of course, she knows, she's bolted the porch. Only now do I need the strongman. It's OK though-- I've three doors and five other pairs of shoes. If I get bored tonight, I'll watch the Lone Ranger for eight hours tomorrow, swing the scales. --Jon Soverow [return to main page] [go to first page] [Get your FREE subscription to Kruller] |