Circus

Everytime a circus comes to town (about three or four times a year) I start having Bob Dylan's Desolation Row go through my head.

"They're selling postcards of the hanging
'They're painting the passports brown
'The beauty shop is filled with sailors
'The circus is in town."

For whatever reason, I had never been to a circus until now. I remember once having an opportunity to see Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus at Madison Square Garden, but I opted to search the shelves of the Strand for interesting used books instead. Fran used to go to the travelling circus in Tupper Lake when the kids were young. She would laugh and say that if they advertised 80 animals, you could be that there were 79 birds and one horse.

Anyway, I convinced my friend Maria to go to the circus with me, along with her two children, Claudia and Alberto. I had hoped that her husband Mimmo would also come, but he claimed that he was tired so did not come over to the field near the stadium to see the second, or maybe third greatest show on earth.

This circus was certainly not Ringling Brothers, or even one of the Ringlings, nor was it Barnum nor Bailey. But it was fun. The circus did not have any birds, but they did have three camels, four horses, four snakes, four donkeys, and a zebra. The performers each had a variety of roles, and it seemed that some of them were working their way down from circus life, while others were trying to learn the trade, and move up to better circuses.

Not including the roustabouts, there were about ten people who worked for the circus, with one young man, who had probably trained as a gymnast, also working as a juggler and at one point putting the horses through their paces as they pranced around the single ring.

The clown came out on several occasions to do cute little, silent jokes, and then led kids selected from the audience in a game of musical chairs. Claudia did participate in that, and came in second. For me, it was most amusing when one of the women brought around a large snake for people to pet, and I watched Claudia and Alberto climb over each other to get out of the way.

It was certainly a beat circus, but it was also a fun circus, and the next time a circus comes to town, I will be there. Besides, with only about thirty people in the audience, I was able to get front row seats.

Wall

My December project was putting a half wall up on part of my terrace. I thought it would make a good place to sit, a good place to put things when I have people over to eat on the terrace, and a nice frame for the view to the sea.

My friend Maria recommended two brothers who were muratore, or wall builders. In the seven plus years I have lived in Sciacca, I have had to employ muratore to redo our bathroom, put in a wall safe, build a little storage area behind the apartment, fix the kitchen floor, and maybe one or two other projects. The good muratore are always busy, and the not so good muratore are always not so good.

This time I really lucked out. Not only were Maria's friends good, they were available, they did a nice job, and did the work quickly. I was able to use some of the left over tiles from the bathroom for the inner wall, and it dressed it up very nicely.

The condominium would not allow me to make a glassed in room in the area with the wall, or I would consider doing that. As it stands, the wall adds something very nice to the apartment, and I am glad I did it.

Thanks, guys, you did a great job.

TRYING TO KICK

TRYING TO KICK
To Fran three years on (II)

As I loose Hypnos' grip
Hemera opening my eyes
I reach to grasp one more time
A fix to end my pain
Like a junkie trying to kick
I need one more kiss
From the lips of Morpheus

The empty pillow next to me clears my head
No head or hair to hold and smell
Your body not next to mine again
The topography of the spread
Unchanged from the night of sleep
Escaping

I stumble to make coffee
Stuck on the first of twelve steps
After on morning at a time
No tomorrows loom for me
Yesterdays and yesteryears before
Give little comfort
I face one day at a time
I know my problem well

Friends tell me
Through recovery
That the Twelfth Step
Is finding faith, a God of some sort
It is Hemera and Noyx
The gods of day and night
Who have moved in
I live with them
One day at a time
One night at a time
Yet the habit of you
Is too hard to break
The loss of you
A break of faith
Which I affirm
One day at a time

MY REVOCERY PROGRAM

MY RECOVERY PROGRAM
For Fran three years on

My recovery program
Twelve halting steps
Each one taking me
Into one day at a time

Each sunrise wakes me
Gives me one more day
To find out what will happen
And imagine what would have happened
Had you been here

I have not recovered missing you
Nor do I seem to be recovering
The suddenness of your death
Not allowing detoxification
From the love we held.

Like the addicts I saw
kicking in hospital wards
Tossing feverishly and begging
I stir and feel your pillow
Search for your smile resting there
Make my one pleading for just one more day
Before facing the one I have been given.