Automobile Cirkus

Welcome to Automobile Cirkus
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Gasoline
rainbows
drip out the back of my pickup.

The chink of missing engine pieces
sound like spare change
in the pocket of a stranger’s
overcoat.

And it is dark.
And it is damp.
And she’s standing on the curb,
beneath a giant spotlight.

Clumps of damp
dark curls
are stuck to her forehead.
She’s the saddest clown I know.

But now I’m here:
the brave trapeze artist girl
waiting beneath the big top of my automobile.

Flashing my headlights,
announcing my entry,
like our very own master of ceremonies.

And for my next trick
I’ll save her,
grip her moist sweaty hand
and pull her up on the high wire too.

If only she knew
how the trapeze artist girl
in the giant pink tutu
was afraid
to fall
too.