The carnival is sick freedom,
passing through town,
barking forbidden desires,
promising an untranslatable ticket to the show.
But why did the parents encourage this?
They wanted us to rub up against something different,
strange and welcome,
but only for an instant,
in the blink of an eye.
“Love but don’t touch,” they said,
“and don’t admit your love.
It’s just a passing fancy.”