I sensed something terrible in the smooth hot dog body
the latex swollen ripe as a fetus without fingers
I felt sorry for this thing unwilded by breath
not knowing the joy of being let go
not knowing freedom in the arms of a large oak
I watch the children curl their necks toward the balloon man
his butcher hands twisting bare link into limb
they take turns hugging the thing tight to their chests
testing with every squeeze the width of its life
as if eyes will sprout like poppies from its vacant head
as if a soul will burst from the rubber flesh
but the children are oblivious to its slow softening
the signs of shrinkage upon first breath
not yet hearing the horror in the helium squeak
they stare at the bounce house with uncivilized eyes