...to Leave This Small Town

"There is a place in my memories for the carnival. Highly skilled artisan gypsy freaks with amazing unappreciated talents and no fixed abode. Stories of grander days when the circus was a life to be admired, somewhere to run to. Family traditions of the high wire and contortion. Sprookers and games of chance. The smell of hay, animal shit and cotton candy.
It arrives seemingly unexpected and lays claim to local sports fields.
Then it is gone onto the next appointment.
It is itself a small town and I the one that is leaving."