There, the Fountain Spurting Yellow

in a circus tent, original. It was pitched around us as I watched dimple drag and fall just below

in a circus tent,
original. It was
pitched around us as
I watched dimple drag and fall
just below

your back arch —
immeasurable. It’s in your eyes
like the boy with his bell-bike
that’s parked behind the
store window, while

mine is in the lake. Where left-foot meets a
snare and rather than slow
the whole lake moves tandem —

I’m both eyes on the stopper at the middle.

Just like bathwater
vortexing.