Tea

I'm buttoned up
but with my fancy socks,
I mean.  It's
one of those days where
you take tea
beneath the clothesline
& watch the
circus roll into town one
elephant
at a time.  I'm not so sure
if this
chain-link fence keeps
the crowd
out or traps us in here
with you
fools, the restless rabble,
the peons
          standing
in the pit hoping for another
                       fart joke
that I'll indulge with an anecdote
about a finger
pulled by the strong man
who becomes a
frog.  Or there's a log,
a fog that finds us wanting.
We like tiny cat feet
& cannot lie except about
the tontine.
                 He looks demure
now but you should have
seen him beneath the blazing
tree, ridden by ancestors, foaming
at the mouth like a juvenile
experimental volcano.
   We smile
as you capture our souls
because we have no souls
nor cares nor beliefs.
Nothing can change a man
who is marked
by chaos; the dead shall die
& the living shall eat
a small meal between
lunch & dinner.