Agoura Hills


So I was finally old enough to fall in love at the circus…
A place where casual contact begins the festivities
My eyes checking rigging as if I knew good from bad
Looking logistically upward,outward
Just wanting to be able to let it wash over me;

Yet this is not what the circus was before
Smaller, but easier to get lost in
I see a life choice before me,not for all,not for me
Commitment at such a level
To pry beyond the greasepaint,past age and beauty
My need to know the stagecraft,feelings,history

(Now ghosts surface from my own).

She was in the troupe,a face in the crowd
I felt I could tell you her story
And the layer between audience and performer
The fragile sacred shroud that permits no further looking in
Made her all that much more to love:
Untouchable,ideal,beyond pollution;
Human,flawed and wrong.

Lost in the freedom of the proceedings
They travel the air as if in a dream
Iíve known this moment in my own life
And cry silent tears of earthbound gratitude
Angels can appear in different attire

I look to my clown,to connect in a way
Feeling the wall pull higher
Our eyes never lock, a moment never shared
Perhaps she lies now alone
Having looked at a man crying,arms wrapped around himself
And wonders about the feelings he felt.

Iíve worked for a circus though it has a different name
And have looked into rooms full of faces
And experienced the convenience
Of not having to focus on them
Only rarely did I look into their eyes
With the danger of some connection…

Her hair falls to her shoulders in a desperate way
Her beauty safe in creative lighting
She turns,gone,a mirage in costume…

And only now am I young enough to fall in love at the circus.