We’re such exhibitionists,
Parading in circles,

Undaunted by our baggy, gray skin
And the terrible forest of hair on our backs.

We have the confidence of ignorant oafs,
Proudly keeping step with each other.

We have dreams (nuts), and fears (smaller creatures),
That make us long and loathe the spotlight.

Systematically, we climb upon each other to delight
The crowd and draw attention from the clowns

Whom we do not fancy ourselves to be
As we trumpet in a language no one understands.

How long can we go in circles like this, in this circus,
Putting on a show that passes as amusement

Before we realize the triteness of our performance
And recognize the freaks as ringmasters?