the circus 1962

she was there.
her son too. Jackie
and John,
Caroline. small
and smartly dressed.
all three in the front
row
minus
her husband, who
was busy
with the country
and other things.
but there they were,
three rows in front
of us at the circus.
guarded by dark men
in dark suits.
I remember my mother
pointing to them,
and whispering. look,
it's Jackie and her
children.
how my mother loved the mythology
of Camelot.
the handsome prince,
his smile, his
grace.
his humor.

quickly this life
moves on.
from the sawdust
and clowns,
the elephants, the high
wire act.
I can see them still.
royalty among
the littles,
the smell of grease paint
and cigars,
the animals. the cotton
candy and hot dogs.
all the sites and sounds
that a circus come to town
can brew.

I wonder if my mother
remembers too, as she lies
curled in a dream
in a bed she'll
never get out of.