highlights from my mind

For thirteen years I've been humming the same song
as I make my way to the backstage acre of this carnival
where I will find a private room to purge my lust.

Not quite fleshy and not quite dry,
I can smell myself failing
and slowly giving in to ripples
of groin-lust.

So here were are at last, I joke and blink.

All the rooms are open walled
and surrounded by aging men
busy weaving horns and blowing baskets
looking over my shoulder and so
I shall be purging nothing tonight
not even a fart.

I shall wait until morning
and until then, lick paint chips
of all colors and races
off the flakey shanks of carousel ponies.

pony, with nothing better to do
I'll chew on you till the two of us are dead.