Lincoln Park

What would it be like, if I
Could arrange phrases neatly
In perfectly constrained lines
That, for all their perfection,
Said something unexpected,
Something as barely contained
As a tiger in a cage?

That's the pretty world I want,
A kind of circus or zoo
For insights out of context,
Mangy and pacing, deranged
But absolutely contained.
Once, in Chicago, I dozed
Over the roar of lions.