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The Fair

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The fair rolled into town surprisingly
intact, like a plate unbreakable because
it has been dropped and glued so many times
that it is all glue and no plate. The fair
was no fair. But, oh, it was a thrill!

The fair slid into town just as a clown
slides into pants. The fit was loose but right.
The sheriff  had a job directing traffic.
The barber was the sheriff  for a night,
and people paid to see a human ape.
They frowned to find her happy and alive.

The fair spilled into town like a box of tacks.
Later that month, in with the rest at church,
were people no one knew,
though none could tell exactly who was who.

Source: Poetry (May 2014)

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This poem originally appeared in the May 2014 issue of Poetry magazine

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The Fair

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