i wanna die on a ferris wheel

yeah...


high

all the carny smells

floating up on my face

ancient turkey legs

sweet corny on dogs

flagrant mustard sticks

spun pinks blues sugars

cigarette smoke and diesel

past butters on

a popcorn sound

down by the lit tents

half the bulbs out

on the arms,

the seat squeaks

like it’s the last

time

every time.


low

thick breath

sweats and pushing

scattered stubs

like gunwads

on oiled gravel

then the burnt tatted

arm

(‘stand back, folks’)

ratchets the rumble

handle to kick up

some hair dust

and make the seat

swivel crazy

feet swing

for the new pass

you grin an

absolute grin

then let go.


there’s a $50 tip in my pocket.