The spotlights shattered the darkness inside Madison Square Garden. The center ring bathed in sudden light illuminated the cacaphony of clowns, trapize artists, animals and all of the fascination that Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus could offer a child in the late seventies. I marveled at every act, spellbound by spectacle.
the fading light of
my glow stick
Another circus–this time under a tent! But a sideshow brought us face to face with the animals behind cages. I spotted the elephants. Including the one manacled and chained to a stake.
the stench of something
I can’t make out
It’s years before I return to any circus. The traveling Big Apple Circus arrives at the Palisades Center commuter lot. Mira and I take Frankie, five years old, to see the one ring circus. Mira is no fan of circuses–it was never a Portugese thing. Frankie enjoys the spectacle to a point–but not to the same degree I did.
the popcorn that somehow
I brought Mira and Frankie to the Prudential Center in Newark to catch Ringling Brother and Barnum and Bailey Circus. Frankie was older, although how much so I can’t remember. The Elephants did no tricks, as this was the last tour in which the circus would use animals. The clowns entertained, but did not wow. The gymnastic routines on the high wire, not to mention the trapeze acts, paled before a Cirque Du Solei. We left unsatisfied. Everything, it seems, has its seasons. Even circuses.
the all-to-polite applause
at the show’s end
for dVerse Poets Pub Come to the Circus! (pubtended by Sarah)