recollections of an artist

The Call

My mother worked the Tilt-A-Whirl
at the Jefferson County carnival-

or so someone said.
The rock-ribbed bass of generators
underneath the calliope
tooting “Goodbye Cruel World”
over carpet clowns, spec girls, and an armless
knife-thrower retreating to his tent between shows.

Let the people point at me and stare-

From home
to the edge of town
is a bike ride,
or the Shoot me out of a cannon! trip of a lifetime.
Your call

-Robert Polito


No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS