Sander Roscoe Wolff

The Tunnel Of Love
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

I met a woman at a traveling show
Who stood in line at the Tunnel of Love
Complaining:

“I don’t understand why its always my fate
That every boy I meet is a freak or a geek!
I’m not pretty, but I’m not plain…”

I swear I’d heard the same refrain
From someone I knew in a bad dream once.

“I’m not pretty, but I’m not plain,” she repeated,
Tapping her ash as we were seated,
“But love has, somehow, eluded me.”

The barker stepped forward, admonishing us:
“Keep all your limbs, heads, and tentacles inside the car!”

“My mommy told me I’d never go far
But here I am, with you, and that star
Flashing red and white in the painted sky
Tells me that tonight is different, tho I don’t know why.”

Then the car lurched forward through the heart-shaped doors
And shrieks and roars of lovers everywhere
Echoed in my brain, that same refrain,
That same refrain, the wolf-cry howl of
“Love me, embrace me, fill me, fulfill me!
Make me feel whole, or forget that I’m empty!”

Then our car in the tunnel derailed from its track
And I said, “we are stuck, we may never get back.”
So we made sweet freak love on the side of the road
And after, our red velvet car was towed.

In the cool evening air, as I watched her depart,
I knew she wouldn’t capture my heart
‘Cause, though she certainly wasn’t plain,
Her tentacle suckers were really a pain.

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