circus

The day the circus came to town,
I hid in my closet
the way a dog cowers under a bed
before a rainstorm.

I took with me a blanket,
a Poland Spring,
a granola bar,
and my father's handgun.
I didn't take a pillow with me,
because I needed room to breathe.

I didn't expect the Bearded Lady
to come and try to recruit me
And I never used to be afraid of clowns.
I cursed my English teacher,
and then Ray Bradbury.

After reading of the malevolent merry-go-round
in Mr. Olstein's class,
I was horrified into vowing
never to go to a circus.
I didn't want to look down to find
my skin trying to melt off my body.

The air smelled like popcorn,
cotton candy,
and the vomit of weak-stomached children.
I could smell it even among my dirty socks
and overturned shoes.
The day the circus came to town,
so did Something Wicked.