
Americana
My life as a carp
Ah the slime and the stench of it
Not to mention what I have eaten
In stagnant brown water foam
I have made my existence
Glaring up at glorious orbs
Of pink cotton candy
Floating by in the sticky hands
Of over excited children
Soon they will travel
On a road
Leading away from the fair
To a town near here
Where you can still smell
the stench of this stagnant air
but their sticky sweet fragrance
will linger on into
their rooms
where dreams will spin like Farris wheels
and all the mad house thoughts of the world
will have been spun out in the dizzying frenzy
of the scrambler and knocked out like bumper cars
and will have melted like cotton candy
until years later
when no ride at the fair
can offer up such sweet bliss
and a carp is a carp
is a carp
carpe diem

