Straight, No Chaser

All praise the juggling club
Their faux-bowling pins and unicycles
The glory of balance
The heptagon of grass they claim

You can sell pharmaceuticals
Or take them, or make them
Collide and collude, complain
About artisanal s’mores, square-

Roots of otiose issues, bureaus
Of bad jazz, dry kugel, feckless,
Reckless youths and new
Contagions daily – the juggling club

Adjusts the space, the props,
Their pace if not laconic, measured
Until one releases into
The companionship of air

A hoop, then two, a third,
A constable of circles with shifting
Displacements – it seems …