The Flying Circus

Heavy hung the clouds of soot, far below the feet of “The Flying Circus”. They waltzed across the scaffolds below, prancing from crossbeam to rooftop, terrace to colonnade. How too, they soared above the rest, carried by hydrogen and ambition, leaping into their wicker baskets as it rose past the windowsill of their recently ransacked resident. Candlesticks and money clips, all swiped and stashed for the journey ahead. Together, they would float above the city sprawl and countryside, a merry band of friends all too often mislabeled as misanthropes. What a painful misreading of a group of mighty complex folk. In a world of unbridled growth and consumption, one couldn’t be far from eccentric when it came to leading a life worth living. To stretch one’s legs required taking them far above the suffocating serpent of highways and high rises, past the parking lots that couldn’t be stopped from devouring the space of below. Thus, as did the people of Babel ascend to meet God, so too must the Flying Circus climb from the wrongness of today. And, as God once swatted the tower down, so too does the final say stay in the hands of those unable to live with those above. So, they rise and they sing and they steal and they tinker, all in their effort to stay afloat. Did they have their sins? Sure, who doesn’t? It’s hard to find a person worth a damn that hasn’t made mistakes. Did they care about each other, floating across the endless sky, hoping to make their next day their best? Not always. Did they love each other? There’s no other word for it.