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Stampeding through this zoo, stepping on peanuts. Maybe it’s more of a carnival, big tents and bizarre melodies. Freak show barkers, bearded ladies. Acrobats and aristocrats, elephants and tigers in cages. Looking for the ringleader, fingering my ticket in my pocket. The dust kicking up from the back of my shoes. The smell of sawdust and helium. My mom says she took me when I was two, not that I remember. But now this small town is in an uproar and the silver dented bleachers are packed. A monkey rides a horse in circles, the crowd cheers. Clowns pour into the ring and people laugh, some cry. The big top flaps in a strong wind, then the rain comes pelting the canvas with dark splotches. The show goes on - the ringmaster brings on the lion tamers, the high wire act. The music grows louder, the crowd in a frenzy, rain pours down outside as it gets late. Out of the corner of my eye I watch a man swallow swords, torches on fire. And I see the tent begin to come apart. I see the dark night sky through the seams. One of the tent posts leans dangerously then comes crashing down.
