THE CIRCUS

At a circus,
Everything glows and glitters.
Even the plastic swords they sell
Light up.
There are elephants,
And men flying across the sky,
And shouts and food.
It is all glory and wonder.
Bedazzlements abound.
But when you walk out,
The gray, rainy day,
With all its purity and puddles,
Is dead, lost in your recent fervor.
The circus kills all your rainy days.