Fairground

Dismantled fairground. In the slow, cold rain
the gaudy, loud attractions stand in parts
among the litter. All the night-long noise

has left the square again until next year
when all the hurly-burly will commence
for three unequalled day in tinsel town –

three days of banshees' wails and raucous cries,
false sweetness beckoning, hard wages gone
in shining make belief and dazzled eyes,

of beer and doughnuts, wooden heads, sore legs,
the taste of expectation – on the tongue
the cud is left at lights out. Now the dawn

lies on the square and shows in bleak, grey light
the sorry mess the night has brought along,
the dregs of hopes, and happiness gone wrong.