I tried to run away to join the Circus,
with no real idea of what a Circus was,
just that it traveled from place to place,
never tied to a single location,
a single set of thoughts,
a single local yokel insistence that things are Right
in this town, in this burg.
But Wrong in some other place,
some place that sometimes doesn’t even look different.
I know I’m not supposed to let anyone call me a freak,
and I don’t say it’s a word for everyone,
but it’s a word for me:
I am a sport,
a changeling,
I’m one of the Others,
whoever or whatever the Others might be.
I tried to run away to join the Circus because
I was tired of being alone and never fitting in.
I wanted to never fit in amongst a big, roaring tribe
of misfits.
I ran away to find a Greater Show than everyday Earth.
And I ran for a long time before I realized the Circus wasn’t just out of reach;
I simply wasn’t reaching far enough.
I kept thinking that it was easy for everything to become bizarre, but hard to enjoy it.
Know where everyone belongs?
I’m the exception that proves the hypothetical rule; I am a collection of symptoms looking to hunt down a cure and eat it for brunch; I am a whole freakshow all by myself.
Know where everyone is comfortable?
I like comfort. But I don’t want to0 stay comfortable;
I’m restless of mind, restless of spirit,
once I have seen The Most Explosive Explosion in the history of Explosions,
I want to see how it will become greater,
stranger,
boomier
next time;
if Life is going to fire cannons at me,
I want to be fired OUT of a cannon and AT life
