Small town, local, temporary set up.
Everyone swarming all over.
Rollercoasters swirl and twist, lights
flash, shine, dance, dazzling
the lines snaking through, impatience
buzzing as people wait, waiting
until they are fed in, two at a time, and then
it’s one long exhilaration, a life within
a life, annihilation of anything beyond.
Gasps and screams, rocketing back to
reality, to hard solid earth littered with
plastic cups. And they wobble out
and plunge back in, drunk on soda,
fried dough, sugar highs.
Torn armrests on
But I –
I stay on the edges, the fringe,
where the grass whispers quiet tranquility,
where the faint breeze cools fevered minds.
I stand in the gathering night, the
shadowy veil draped between me and
this carnival. When the fireworks
explode in their thunderous light,
people cheer and clap, magnificent
wonder captured in arcing flight.
But I’m the remnants, lingering
smoke floating aimlessly, harried workers cleaning
up this carnival’s debris. I am the long train passing by –
one lone, mournful whistle resonating through the night.
As the people break up, drift away in chatters,
I am the unending night; silent, solemn, sober.