In The Wee Hours Of A Carnival Encamped.

.  ©-2015-Matthew F. Blowers III -Art~Whimsically Yours Studio

THEY GATHERED NIGHTLY WHEN THE MARKS DEPARTED

AFTER THE RIDES SHUT DOWN AND THE  LIGHTS DIMMED LOW,

TO HUDDLE IN A SMALL TRAILER SET OFF FROM ALL THE REST.

SOME HOBBLED, OTHERS SCURRIED OR WHEELED,

THEIR WAY TO THE FAMILIAR RENDEZVOUS THEY SHARED,

TO PLAY A FORM OF STRIP POKER, EACH HOPING TO WIN

SOME OF THE OTHERS HARD EARNED CASH LAID DOWN.

THE BOOTY FOR EACH GAME INVOLVED BODY PARTS,

A WINNING HAND WOULD IMPROVE THEIR CHANCES,

TO STRIP AWAY WHAT MADE THEM DIFFERENT TO OTHERS,

PLASTIC POKER CHIPS BECOMING PLASTIC SURGERY.

ONE HUGE HUMP AT LAST SLICED FROM HIS BACK,

RADICAL LIPOSUCTION FOR THE 500 LB.WHEEZING FAT LADY,

AMPUTATION FOR THE MAN WITH THREE ARMS AND 12 TOES,

PLUS PERMANENT HAIR REMOVAL FOR THE BEARDED LADY.

THEY ALL HAD STAKES IN WHAT WAS HOLDING THEM THERE,

MUCH LIKE THE STAKES IN THEIR CANVAS TENT PRISONS

,
WHERE THE GENERAL PUBLIC LEERED AND LAUGHED

 
AND MADE LEWD COMMENTS ABOUT THEIR AFFLICTIONS.

KNOBBY, THE GNARLED MAN WITH MULTIPLE TUMOURS,

SOUGHT CHEMOTHERAPY AND SKILLFUL EXTRACTIONS.

AND ROAD-MAP, THE MAN TATTOOED FROM HEAD TO TOE,

LONGED FOR BLEACHED SKIN AND MAYBE A DATE OR TWO.

NIGHTLY THEY CONSULTED KINGS AND QUEENS, 

HOPING FOR A ROYAL FLUSH OF THEIR VARIED WOES,

GEEKS, FREAKS AND OUTCASTS SEEKING A COMMON DREAM,

WHEN THE MIDWAY FELL SILENT IN THEIR TWISTED WONDERLAND.