Best Supporting Adam

I have always been a bit afraid
of the darker side of the carnival,
where you turn from dog into horse
and gallop golden down the track
to a prize that is made of lies.

I wonder if it's woth giving up
what we keep holden: the safety
of home, the rye, the timidest cheeks.
In this tent we pay admission, we wait,
we wonder what will happen before we
emerge on the other side. Sweating.

I am content to be the Best Supporting Adam
and leave you in the lead. I am afraid
of chasing after fallen change. And you
in the window is not you. And you can
somehow cease to own your name.

The timidest cheeks are wet with Heaven.
The hand upon them dries them, and makes them old.
posted by Adam at 11:53 AM [edit]