Update:
You can read the finished version here: The Carnival

The Freak:

Come here often, or is it your first time?

The Man:

(Looking around anxiously)

I know not of how I came here, good sir,
but oft to quote are the denizens here,
“See the Freak, see the Freak,” at my queries
that those queries transformed themselves thusly:
“Who’s the Freak?” but still they chant, “See the Freak.”
‘Til I say, “Where?” and direct me they here.

The Freak:

(To a stuffed parrot)
Comes to see the Freak, but not to marvel.
(To the Man)
Your questions will do little to serve you.
(To the parrot)
All asked questioned that now say, “See the Freak.”

The Man:

What is that parrot you are talking to?

The Freak:

(To the Parrot)
They ask, but they do not listen to me.
(To the Man)
The Parrot is dead, like all men will be.
Alive he parroted men, though dumb beast,
repeating the phrases he overheard.
Stuffed and lifeless, though in a lifelike pose,
parrots he now only wisdom. Behold.
(To the Parrot)
Tell me all that you know, speak parrot, speak.
(To the Man)
Alive he had half of wisdom, to speak,
and dead he possesses the other half.

The man:

Why do you keep for yourself this dead bird?

The Freak:

I hold out my arms and look, one be short.
See you now my face, it’s barely a man’s.
Nor belongs it happ’ly to beasts either,
for then, with them, I’d be counted no freak.
You, Man, start at this misshapen body,
prefer you not the sight of this parrot?
Don’t answer, you only have more questions.
You do prefer gazing at this red bird,
and yet, this bird is dead, while I’m alive.
So, like truth we, a pair, do show to you
what is pleasant holds little when counted,
and unpleasant truth is hard to stomach.

The Man:

Hold please, Freak, I perceive your cunning wit.
I came to ask questions, for, as you said,
I only have more questions to be asked.
Truthfully, they all have root in one fact,
and so, in airing of it, my hopes are
that you enlighten me on an issue
thereby slaying the hydra, wonderment.
But the fact cannot be stated simply,
and therefore must I now tell you a tale.

The Freak:

Then, to me quickly, tell what tales you must.

The Man:

It seems strange, for it’s a jigsaw puzzle,
resold, and with many missing pieces.
There are no edges with which to begin,
so I, out of memories’ battered box,
pull these disconnected parts of my tale
laying them out plainly, one at a time.
This dark piece, it seems a good beginning,
I was falling, like as it were a dream,
and, suddenly enveloped in blackness,
found myself secured in an old pine box.
The lid was nailed down, but, between two boards,
my eye, perchance, did spy my environ.
Crowds were sitting and clapping in bleachers,
but they did not seem joyous or happy,
angry and dreadful where their expressions.
There’s one piece, and its holes speak of others.
How came I there, and how did I then leave?
Though pieces fit in these empty spaces
they are as yet unfound. I keep searching.

The Freak:

From this I can enlighten what’s now dark,
(To the parrot)
but which of us shall it unveil to him?
There’s some sanctuary in ignorance,
but it’s a terrible box to stay in.

The man:

If you mean to shield me from my own death,
I have somewhat guessed my state to be so,
that or I’m locked in a terrible dream.

The Freak:

Would there be much difference between the two?

The Man:

There is one from which a man does awake,
and, stretching his sore muscles, forgets all.

The Freak:

You are right once, but have now been wrong twice.
Be assured, you died, like all living here,
but you are not dead, not dead anymore.
Both alike awake, the sleeper and corpse.

 

I presented the beginnings of this in another post: Carnival: Rough Draft

Update:
You can read the finished version here: The Carnival