Gloom rolled into town
like a caravan circus
vintage and ragged
rusty and golden
the metal tent reflected
a land before time
maybe from the old movies
when the elephants wore hats
still, and the women danced
long legged, sexy and sweating
as their toes kicked up
leaving little to mystery.
The gloom has its trapeze highs
and it’s netted lows, a feeling
of falling through time,
through space, being caught
right before the big SPLAT.
The net between the gloom
and the bright lights
catches me like a spiders web,
totally and completely
but not enough to feel less lonely.
There is a tight rope of thought
instead of a train, in my brain,
i am constantly balancing,
a crowd of roaring people,
spitting people, animals
howling in the gloom
at me, laughing at me
throwing peanuts
at me
as i try to balance on the rope.