Peanuts and Popcorn

The man juggling chainsaws

has become less interesting

with every visit

so that now

even the mime

in his invisible box

is an attraction worth observing

until of course, I waver

only able to watch

his white gloved hands

imitate a square

so many times

before I continue following

the dangling carrot of need,

the need

of having my fancy tickled,

at seeing three headed snakes pickled

behind freak show curtains

where my cravings are sated

and I have myself berated

my weakness for whimsy

and coaxed myself home

following the trail

of empty peanut shells

flights of fancy

best laid plans

and the slimy path of a snail

past the bus stop

where a fat man

fans himself

with a McDonalds coupon

Peanuts, popcorn, get your popcorn heeya!

Ah, the freaks inside

their invisible boxes

and do not even realize it.

They are the most pitiful of all

I think to myself

and then hurry my step

remembering that it is time

to feed my taxidermied cat

some peanuts, popcorn

and the white gloved hand of a mime.

Finally home

I lounge in front of my broken TV,

the one that is crooked

and has no screen

but it does not matter,

I am an educated man,

I have Dante’s Inferno

which I wedge under one corner

straightening the boob tube

so I can watch my lava lamp

warming up in the center

like a hobo round a fire

heating beans in the winter

in an invisible box,

where an orange glob floats.

I rise to draw the curtains

against the whimsical stares

of those whose fancy is tickled

and have grown tired

with the man juggling chainsaws

and a mime who is mired

and have come to the only place left

that they possibly know

to peek behind my curtains

into the freak show.