Circus Reject
No matter how hard you work at your talent or how diligently you look for a job, there’s still a chance that no circus will want you.
What can you do, he asks. I can recite pi, I tell him, to one thousand places. Blindfold me — I can find & identify flying objects better than a bat. I don’t merely eat fire; I excrete it. I can go for years without sleep. But he only wants to know how much I drink — as if I ran away from my life & came all this way just to pound stakes & shovel elephant dung like some lousy roustabout. Your loss, I say to his back, & shuffle back to the bus stop in my big clown shoes, blisters already rising on my tentacles.