I kissed The Djembe Man

  Plastic whistles
                      scream
           to.ky.o.zone
                           [strawberry roan?]
        it’s a karyokekinda day
                anyway
                        noise
                 beyond the noise  
         blaring from stands
                      and marching bands
                                and okey dokey
                       and pirates on stilts
             and fun’s fair share
  [there’s Annie Oaklies everywhere]  
       I kissed the djembe man
                                       on the corner
                  [on the lips, actually]
   but I’m too old for swirls of confetti
     [in truth, I never was quite ready]
                             so,
                steady as she goes,
     I didn’t turn to follow the carnival pulse
  towards the esplanade
           but nosed into the shade
                 headed up the hill
                         to where it’s quiet still

.

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