The voices from the loudspeakers
were tinny to begin with,
but at this end of the midway
they’re a chorus of microbes.
Just as you walk by,
an October breeze parts
a pair of tent flaps to reveal
a new kind of knowledge.
You thought you’d been around
a bit, but now you’re thinking
maybe you’ve not been around
as much as you thought.
You stop.
You turn back.
This is how these things
get started.
About the Author
R. A. Allen’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the New York Quarterly, Poetry Online, B O D Y, The Penn Review, RHINO, The Los Angeles Review, Pennine Platform, Lotus Eater, and numerous other publications. He has been nominated for a BotN and two Pushcarts. Find his fiction in The Literary Review, The Barcelona Review, PANK, The Los Angeles Review, and Best American Mystery Stories 2010. He lives with his wife in Memphis, a city of light and sound.
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