I stepped right up
to the man in the top hat,
bought his slick pitch
about circus life,
entered the tent
eager to begin my training.

The first day we juggled,
tossing and catching,
rings, swords, fire,
until I joined the rhythm
of three things at once,
the trap of perpetual motion.

The next day was tightropes,
first teetering on planks
then moving onto wires,
one foot in front of the other,
eyes fixed straight ahead,
unable to see anything else.

Day three brought the magician
with wand and rabbit,
revealing reason behind illusion,
explanations for mystery,
and I dropped my bag of tricks,
fleeing before I learned too much.