Somehow, I thought there would be puppets. She had gestured and motioned as if the crowd would be transformed. We would be joined by the unexpected, by the fabulous, popping up from the ordinary. Our joy would be great. They had to be puppets, I imagined. I saw colorful faces of fabric, lewd, grotesque, and joyous expressions. Larger than this life but hidden among us, popping out from the ordinary/ Puppets like fools, to speak truth and amuse. Perhaps I would see the mind of a puppeteer, under a colorful hand.
But there were no puppets. It was a band and a songstress, working too hard on an anthem. The sun was very bright and it was loud. We waited too long there, with a vain hope for puppets.
