I've seen how it distorts
people, dust devil
of the heart.
You can feel
the years of labor
on their hands, its callousness
and warmth,
watching
shadow branches
scratch
at the window.
Each freckle
is a moon unexplored.
You're a wolf
who has known the same wide-eyed glow
that crests
over your horizon,
but it's the same song
that kettles from your lips,
the same as theirs,
"You don't get it, kid. This job ain't about makin' people laugh." He exhaled cigar smoke with every word. The name on the label stuck to one of the suspenders holding up his hoop-waisted trousers read: 'Foboz'. He had the eyes of a disillusioned cultist and obviously hadn't shaved or showered in a while, his greasepaint smudgy and rough-looking for being plastered over several days' growth. "Do you know where we got the word 'circus'? Think about bullfights."
Dingdong abandoned his piled-high plate of shrimp and ahem'd, the deliberate cough of a non-smoker, while flapping the end of his oversized purple tie at the offending fumes. "Sure, it
