Thrill Ride

Image source: WikiMedia Commons

once a year, we played hooky, you and I,

calling out sick from work on a warm spring day,

skipping off in search of the ultimate thrill ride,

a coaster to speed back to yesterday, to cotton candy

and bumper cars and a lifetime more years to ride.

we loved the coasters, especially old woodies,

the clackety, clackety, clack of anticipation

as our coaster cart and our hearts climbed to the pinnacle,

until  

    WOOSH!  

                coaster cart and heart 

and years gone by…  

                  p

             l

               u

                  n

                     g

                        e

                           d

taking our stomachs with them.

we always sat up front and center, you and I,

in the first seat of the front cart, arms high in the air

with nothing before us but the edge of time, the abyss

between now and a forever of yesterdays filled with

coasters and  bumper cars, fried dough and tummy aches.

I don’t know about you, my love, but I don’t eat cotton

candy or fried dough any more, or aim thundering bumper

cars,not deliberately anyway, and sadly, I admit it, I don’t 

see you anymore either, and I don't ride coasters, not even

woodies, not after that last time when we hopped on a

coaster that would take us backwards, and it did... literally.

it didn’t work the way we wanted it to and we were no 

younger after than we were before. it was scary and 

sickening, and the scariest thing of all was that when we 

got off, the young whooping in glee all around us, we felt 

older than ever before. that’s when I stopped seeking 

thrill rides because my heart just can’t take any more.

***

Written for dVerse Poet's Pub, where the prompt on Poetics is "Fun Fair."