“SERVES THEM RIGHT”

The crowd is created by one lone boy
pointing in the air at the trapeze artist
who wears nothing but her steel grin,
biting on the bar—
and swinging toward the infinite.
Meanwhile, the crowd continues
pointing in the air,
as the one lone boy picks pockets
of the ones who took his place;
Front row at the Main Street spectacle.
And nobody in the crowd notices
that they are without their wallet
because nobody thought
to pay the acrobat for her bravery.
Not the bravery
for swinging so high— so naked—
but for swinging the life of an artist
in a society that so rarely pays back
these daredevils who risk so much
for the enjoyment of others.
“Serves them right,” she reassures
herself noticing her son
from the corner of her eye,
peeling off another Rolex;
She chuckles, lifting her toes
high above her head
and tumbling forever
toward the infinite sparkle
of noon sun on silver sequins;
While the crowd cheers,
wondering why events like this
don’t happen more often?

narrative poem written on 01-18-2011 by: on mattkane.com
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