PUPPET TALK 

How I feel about these times. Anon.

I move my feet 

I dance and dance,

up and down, up and down,

cannot stop. 

The cares of the world

marionette me

all around and around

up and down, up and down.

I cannot exit.

The curtains never close.

Characters appear 

and disappear.

They whisper, 

point, direct,

shout, push. 

Who is the stage master?

Who is the Stromboli?

Will they ever reveal

who they are and why

they do this?

Pity me, poor fool—

dancing, dancing

up and down 

and all around.