Elizabeth McGee

I scream from the wheel’s top
my seat rocking from self-induced sways;
the Ferris wheel

On the ground,
your eyes follow me with each turn,

prudently tracing the wheel's trajectory,
hands gripped on circus sausage,
mustard stained palms and fingertips.
Scared you will lose me when
my lover arrives.

We make our way through the revelling crowds
moving side to side
as strollers cut between us.
Children squawk
with pink candy tongues,
skateboards rattle and jaunt
as teenagers roll
across the concrete.

Stale popcorn
and soda-pop bottles
from metal bins
as we wade through
this garbage.
You say you love me, and I turn
to watch a clown
into animals.

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