I don’t have enough money
to go to the circus every day,
so I have to dream up many
sneaky ways
to enter.
One evening, I carry a violin,
pretending to be one of the musicians.
The next afternoon, I haul a stack of papers
to make myself look like an official.
Finally, after much trial and error,
I discover that the clown loves poetry,
so now I simply trade
rhythmic verses
for tickets.
His favorites are the romantic rhymes,
which I imagine he will recite as if they
are his own heartfelt poems, whenever he
falls as deeply in love
as this hopeful
twelve-year-old
trickster.
Unable to imagine
life without the circus,
I audition, but my poet’s body
fails to pass all the tests
for athletic talent,
and I end up facing
Hortensia’s unbearable
departure.