Apartment Circus

I couldn’t stand to see the carnival rust in the junkyard, so I bought it.
How you fit all that into a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan, well, that’s my secret.
Kids line up at my door, and I sell tickets to the rides, the midway games, and the various tent acts.
At first, the Condo Association protested, but now they’re all in the show: the fat lady in 5H, the super’s a sword swallower, and 16A tells fortunes.
It’s a good crowd tonight.
I adjust my nose, check my floppy shoes, and lead the clowns into the center ring.