Off the ship less than a week,
A kiss of ground, a calliope,
In the echoed smoke. To the distant fling,
Of games and rides,
We walk. Now so much worse with wear, That road-worn, rotten carnies stare. At the sideshow with no extra fare, For lurid sight.
And a lizard lady says “Come here.”
And flicks her bifurcated tongue.
Runs her fingers through her beard,
And says “You look like my kind of fun” at the Carnival.
Ale and fried dough satiate,
Another and it’s getting late.
But Lizzie has the tab to pay,
So it’s on to three.
After four, to close the deal,
Her beard rubs, on the Ferris wheel,
Against my face and now I feel,
So sick I jump free.
And the lizard lady yells “Come back!
We just started having fun!”
Curse these smoke-filled lungs of black!
In wheezing pain, I leap and run from the Carnival.
Now Lizard Lady haunts my dreams.
And in the shadows, stowed away.
Long on these forgetting seas,
I shudder at what fast became of the Carnival.
Copyright 2016 D.U.M.B. Art & Publishing All rights reserved.