The Last Lion-Tamer

They shut down the circus

And sent the lion-tamer home

With his whip in tow

And his tail tucked between his legs.

They sent the lions back to Africa,

Or maybe the zoo, it doesn’t matter.

Tamed as they are,

They will never be the alpha males of their new community.

At best, they’re completely neurotic

And the other lions will pick up on that.

The lion tamer himself will have to

Face the gaping jaws of every new day

Without knowing what to do

Or what to tame.

At best, he will learn to tame himself.

What more can he ask?

His wife will give him suggestions:
The post office, the zoo.

But he will always find himself standing

In front of the mirror

Dressed in full lion-tamer garb

Striking a pose with his whip.

He’ll even refuse to trim that silly mustache.

The world will become his lion,

And he will have to wrestle it bare-handed,
“Like a savage,” he thinks

As he looks himself over in the mirror

Dressed in a fine-tailored suit

Before his next job interview.