His life hummed like a fly
Sweetly trapped in Mama’s honey --
The announcement of the County Fair
Sends him slouching towards freedom.

Her breath collected airily
The sniffs and puffs of ambergris,
Animal grunts, plump thumbs
Coaxing neon into flame --
A golden hair set surging
From the weaving of her blouse.

Long nails and a lingering grin
Record the waifish litter-strips
That trim the path to the Haunted House, the Whirl-a-Bird Grip.
As gurgling men with sweat-stained beards
Sing out to sell the skin of the Invisible Man.
And the breasts of the Bearded Girl.

Against the grainy spikes of falling night
He fights her down to the molecules, spying
The helix, the promise of maternity,
In the wisps sprouting from her legs.
He removes her temptation to go round and taut –
Like a child plucking weeds from imperfect ground.

Limp grass blanches at the kissing blow
It feeds her body in the night.

The blades glint restlessly and titter
With the reckless, bug-eyed streetlights.
They trace this rumpled frame, this clumsy thing
That once went craving for the clouds.

But no, the jackboot crunch
Stays sickly trapped for days in
The candied peels and syrup stains of children’s sweets.

And then they find her.