(what else can you do with/the change in your hands?)

the animals dream of human lovemaking
themselves, actors
in a gentle wave of curiosity
as if this were not their nature
and all the uncertainties of a child
still present, in the way the bodies
morph into one another
like carnival dancers engaged
in a magical warfare, for entertainment
purposes, only, taking
unknown steps in the blue
crossing over the yellow twilight,
who wishes it might be
another color tonight,
for it has heard people say,
pink is the more beautiful...

at this hour, you can hear music,
and the elephants' stomping affirms
your reality, the last blaring roars
from a starving tiger's mouth,
shakes the cage that contains
all the faces that can be seen:
all who are dressed like kings
and his many unhappy queens,
flanked sparsely by angels here
and there, fallen to be lowly
ladies in waiting
with crowding tangles for hair,
and for wings, gaudy pieces
that tatter and fly away in the wind.

it is a patchwork playground
with plastic flowers painted in
a hidden corner of the camp,
which she picks from the floor and plants
           in her head in the yellowing light,
              
this carnival dancer
           will twirl for you, for a time,
           in place; at the end
           of her last revolution,
                                          she will turn to you to say
                                          and for the right price,
                                          it can all be bought.



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