Friday, January 5, 2007

A Sucker is Born

A Sucker is Born

A sucker is born
Every time I pull
This lever, said
My friend the Carney
At a small town fair.

"Take the lot and
The air in it too,”
Was my friend’s advice,
Although he didn’t
Have a coat to wear.

Still, he made as if
To zip-up in the wind,
Put his hands in
Invisible pockets as if
They would be kept warm.

He made an awful lot
Of suckers in those days.
I can remember going to
Get one, strolling with my girl
Under the moon

And the lights of the barrel
Drop as I imagined
Everyone under the hand
Of a great puppeteer
Who plotted out our lives.

My little Ophelia was
Giving herself my last name,
And all was as it ought to
Have been. Here’s your
Sucker, my friend said,

And it wasn’t as sweet
As it looked with its
Blush of color.
We went on to shoot
Goldfish in a bucket,

And I tried to win her
Something stuffed, but
My hand was trembling.
I just couldn’t aim anymore.
And in my sucker, a bull’s-eye.

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