VANITY FAIR

     You wake up, out of nowhere, in a carny county fair,

     And everything’s for sale, and you are poor.

     Like most, you pay for the right to pay more and more

     For less and less: cracked kewpie doll, torn teddy bear,

     Grease-soaked corn-dog that clots to glue in the throat,

     And a chance to gawk at the two-headed man

     And the woman with the legs of a goat.

     Your head whirls till flat earth’s a tilted carrousel,

     And you stagger among the enameled saddles,

     A child bedazzled by every twirly, flashy thing;

     You lurch to the hysterical calliope,

     You lunge for the flying brass ring.

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