Rotting bleachers fill the tent.
Silently, we watch the show,
suffocated by cigarette smoke
and our own humanity.
If I could leave unnoticed,
I'd slip beneath the tent flaps
I'm tired of watching acrobats
jumping through hoops,
balancing on wires.
I'm weary of painted-on faces
with big, red smiles that pretend to care.
There's nothing in their eyes.
You did it.
Running through the pandemonium,
I heard you yell.
"First one out the turnstile wins a ticket
to the greatest show beyond this earth,
an all expense paid, one-way trip
I waved good-bye
as you disappeared through the haze.