Peanuts and Popcorn

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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


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