To the Ticket Girl Working at the Carnival, Cherry Festival 2016

 

Gulls scatter erratic,

like plastic bags estranged

in air current

over the ferris wheel.

A wind peaceful

of lake, wind in

my veins, or rather

winded, bone-terse

& skin-brittle

from cold cloaked

in summer’s peeling.

the dog days razing

a burnt lintel of wither

& aimless want

on my back.

I follow the lead

of wandering color,

sporadic in disposition,

neon memories buckled to

bleak nights where I hold

quiet & clamor each in a palm.

My eyes elevated to

a bruised sprawl of sky

until my muse drifts

to you, red security shirt

& a scraggly-toothed smile.

I buy a ticket & hold onto

the search for you

at every rotation

of the tilt-a-whirl.