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 turns 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 flashing, twirling thing,
You lurch to the hysterical calliope,
You lunge for the flying brass ring.
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