the thin man

his eyes, were what I saw.
as he sat
still in his glass cage,
sawdust on the floor,
a pail of water
nearby.
not a crust of bread
to be found.
his ribs looked wooden
beneath
his slack skin,
the hull of a thin
ship raised
from the ocean floor,
rows
of bones protruding,
making the crowd
gasp as they leaned
upon the glass
eating glazed red apples
and hot dogs,
cotton candy.
his cheeks hollowed
so that his teeth took up
too much room.
why did he even need teeth
a boy said to his mother who
shrugged.
he hungered not.
this was what he did.
not eating
as the carnival rolled from
small town
to smaller towns.