your vacant & stunning box of fleas 

uninhabited acrobatics 
in an empty room-- 
the ring master & his wonderful 
box of performers--
yes step right up here 
to the wonders of no one.

i need my own flea circus--
to train them to be 
marvelous: 
back flips
& balancing plates. 

in my basement i would talk
to them-- tell 
my fleas they're the best fleas 
in the whole city &
you would laugh at me if you knew
& you would think this is 
all a joke

of course you'd right
that there are no fleas:
the flea circus is a
series of magnet tricks
& gears-- 
a calculated escapade. 

yet, on days like this
i can almost see them-- my tiny 
artists
each of them so 
determined & proud.

i cup my hands as if 
to hold all the fleas
in my show. i say 
tell them 
you are small & 
beautiful & perfect.

on most days i wish 
i was as minuscule as them
so that most people would 
question if 
i was even there.

would you miss me 
if i became flea? 
no--i want to be 
the whole circus.

i want to be abandoned 
but marveled at-- i want
to be a vacant & stunning;
a hollow wonder.
yes-- step up to me then. 

watch all my little tricks. 
stick out your hand 
& hope to feel my touch &
wonder all the while

if all i am is a series 
of magnets 
pulling games
through the air.