Creeping souls, Beware.
Look around, shes here!
The Ringmaster's near.
Prepare for thy seasons,
Spring, Summer-sault, fall!

Light, shine,
Blinding thy eyes.
Look, Look this way!
The Ringmaster is here!

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, To thy Haven."
Of sanity's sphere.

Hello Boys and Girls,
Cackle, clap, cry.
Laugh away my dearies!
High air fives! Good one!(Yeah Right)

I twirl my cane,
dancing into the ring.
I tip my hat, Announcing my name.
"Ringmaster Jinx at your service!"
"Rhymes with Sphinx!"

Stampede around!
Bounding lions roar,
Elephants triumphant!
Sounding war,A war of the century.

A crack of the whip spurs motion,
Big cats rear, growling at the stands.
Ace makes them sit, and spin!
"Get on with it!"

Thundering hooves sound,
Rippling figures race into the ring.
"Horses freedom ring! Hail Gladiator!"
They rear raising their heads high,
Controlled by Vex and Zakirai!

Cackling children scream,
"Oh my! Look!"
"Clowns wheeling into the ring!"
HONK! :o) Laugh and Dream!

Pies fly,
Unicycles collapse.
Laughter erupts!
Pie war! Duck!
Spring, soar!

"Guide the war!"
Left, right,back.
One "SMACK!" Two collide.
I control the theme, an Extravagant team.
Even if, I'm covered in pie cream.

Dance, Bound, Leap!
Up, Up and away my sweet!
Dancing through the air, gravity defy!
Hysterical...Insanity.
Your leap, of faith!

Vex falls into the net,
Safe, grounded, relieved.
My friends cheer with glee!

Insane sanity!
Look around, see me on the ground.
Hello Boys and Girls, Enjoy the show!
Haven Circus, Sphere of Humanities finest!

I twirl my cane,
Tip my hat,
And proclaim my name.
"Jinx the Ringmaster of this train!"

Goodbye one and all!
Hope you enjoyed the show!
Laugh, Cry and Dream!

I take my cane, and hat,
Exiting the Ring..

If Rihanna and Bob Marley had a baby,
it would be her. She was as fierce as peace can be.
Born in the suburbs, I had never seen
coffee-colored rastas with caramel tips,
pulled back from a shaven head
into a ponytail.
She skated in an oversized hoodie
across San Marcos square — a watering hole for
porteños playing hippie.
Mad man strummed ukuleles wildly;
couples dancing interpretively; jugglers rode on unicycles,
as if they were all training for a jester convention.
Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes from her
broken strands tied in knots swinging freely.

Her sea-foam stare met my blue gaze.
I looked like a dork; my hair plastered
and sweaty. I wore a black tank top,
waiting for another bus to another city.

She dismissed her band of perros
and grasped my hand, asking me
if I wanted to sleep by the river with her.
It was late so I said yes.
We walked from the yellow lights
of the town square.
She grimaced.

No more bones for starving dogs.

I wasn’t starving, just lost,
a traveler,
dried from a bucketful of adventures,
I dreaded repeating as empty stories
over
and
over
and
over.


O Celia,
you were a coyote wearing a hoodie;
no one could tame you, refracted by the white
light of the moon that embraced each
of your steps by the shrubbery-ridden riverside.
I stumbled as we approached
an embankment sheltered by magic trees,
the glistening water chilled waves to perked ears;
reflections of villagers, we pitched tents together,
tipi-ed by the ritual
of finding niche in transition.
You built the fire; I prepared the mate;
your weary locks whispered callejero wisdom.
Your stories were everything I wanted to say,
but too timid to be.

You were dancing in my basement,
bathing in moonlight *******,
unashamed to say how good the water felt.
You probably lost your virginity in your tent;
shadows of leaves shaking a disturbed night,
unlike I, crying, semi-drunk, wishing I hadn’t.

You actually played the guitar;
you bought it yourself;
it was tied to the skateboard
you drug behind on open roads.
I got a guitar for my birthday after
watching Lindsay Lohan be a rockstar in a movie once.
I was inspired to play for a while.
Then it just sat in my room.

So you taught me your favorite song, Legalizenla
We didn’t even have a porro — you wished we did.
But all I wanted was to memorize those chords
So you listened to me play them out of tune for hours,
pressing my fingers on the fretboard like butter.
Strums shuddered my soul.
You wrote the lyrics in my journal
with the note, con mucho amor.

Now, each time I dust off my guitar,
I warm up with that song  
to remember your vibrations.