Sunday Night in Santa Rosa

by Dana Gioia

The carnival is over. The high tents, the palaces of light, are folded flat and trucked away. A three-time loser yanks the Wheel of Fortune off the wall. Mice pick through the garbage by the popcorn stand. A drunken giant falls asleep beside the juggler, and the Dog-Faced Boy sneaks off to join the Serpent Lady for the night. Wind sweeps ticket stubs along the walk. The Dead Man loads his coffin on a truck. Off in a trailer by the parking lot the radio predicts tomorrow’s weather while a clown stares in a dressing mirror, takes out a box, and peels away his face.

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From Daily Horoscope, Graywolf Press, 1986, by DANA GIOIA.