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


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