The sky is blue again.
The clouds are white,
painted with a dry brush.
It's the perfect sky
to put over a circus.
The train cars right there
look like elephants.
I look like the ticket taker
but I'm on break.
These two smokers look
like the barker and the fire breather.
There's a new guy today
and we all tell the same
stories again and laugh
right where we should.
No, the circus doesn't stop here.
Not in this town. It doesn't stop
tomorrow either. Always
not in this town.
1 comment:
You are back with a vengeance. It is good to hear your voice again.
Dad
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