17 

& in the dream
the big top sat atop that
courthouse downtown where
I was exonerated.

Tumblers & trapeezemen adorn
paper plate masks of
preschool doodlings.
Lions, elephants, tigers
all slightly askew.

This man in a red unitard
pulled me aside and handed
me a sparkler.
Above us moon trickled in like leaky pipes one story up.
There were constellations of cigarette holes singed into the canvas.
He quoted some Abbey Road,
something ‘bout an equality of love,
tightened his goggles, and stuck a straw between his teeth.
Told me he dreamt of sipping the stars
& climbed into the cannon, awaiting
a light for his fuse.