The HUMAN CANNONBALL

I only knew him as an old man, after his circus days were long gone. When I visited him at his little acre by the pond, he would tell me stories and show me pictures and on sunny days we would go out to the field. He kept the cannon under tarps and ever so gingerly he would crawl inside. When he gave the word, I would light the fuse and I would hold my ears and watch for a glimpse of him going by in the sky.