Piccadilly Dream Draft 2

Last night riding Piccadilly Line -
circus lions, trapeze artists, and bipolar clowns
cartwheeled between each cart. Clown painted
smile over frown, and still juggled his organs
in stomach without dropping one.

Accountants and defense lawyers
picketed on platforms as each tunnel;
petitioned peace in Underground.
I was in front car reading the picket signs on 5:00 pm train
with family members -
saying things they normally never say, like
we should burn our savings to start our bum life
and
love we share does not rely on pents in pockets.

Ideas flowed out mouths like investments deposited in trust funds.

I sat next to my Uncle,
fourth row from the front,
where he told me he loved me
and meant it.
And I learned how to cry again -
how to dig my thoughts out from brain folds.
We sat on seats to watch clown bounce around in latex spandex,
and I played Cats Cradle with lions. Trapeze artists
used hand bar as balance beam,
while juggling two wedding rings.

Brooklyn and Kimberly were married in back seats
by the pope himself. Aisle sprinkled with dandelion peddles
and the dance party woke up neighbor carts.

We danced away politics and economy
and conducted body heat as fuel for electricity.