Side Show

The worst of the roadside attractions
Was the one we found accidentally;
Where orchard workers like zombies
Stared from grayed picnic tables
As though we had fresh brains
Tucked somewhere in the car.

Walking into the apple barn was strange
An experiment in the limits of our mouths
As, upon hearing our salesmen talk fruit;
Flies drifting lazily around his reedy tones
Smirks were poorly contained
And giggles pushed on the backs of our throats.

We could have killed that creepy dog,
Which rested, a breathing cliché,
Under a rusty truck in the late summer heat.
With the adrenaline throwing dust
Behind us as we left, and, after
Looking in the back seat surreptitiously,
We ate those soft tart red apples
The whole way home.