A New Place

There has always been a cost to enter,
whether to see the circus or be part of it,
a certain sacrifice required, one somehow
you never seemed willing to pay,
always being the boy who snuck under the tent,
the whole experience better for the subterfuge,
for the danger of being caught.
the pretending to belong,
hanging long enough that you learned
the circus trick, learned the languages
and the dances wherever you were;
learning them well enough no one asked
for your passport or ticket, simply assuming
they missed you along the way
and you were always there,
until it all became too familiar
and you left for a new place to be a stranger. ,

About this poem

I have spent much of my life trying things I was probably not qualified for and somehow, succeeding. It’s made quite the journey. I keep thinking I will settle down. Stay. Fit in.

The picture was taken at an abandoned horse racing stadium about an hour or so from my home.

Tom