spin it faster than a neon whizzing top
watch the colors ignite with the laughter
of the children as they beg mommy
for just one more ride. look at the horsies,
mommy, look! see how they dash madly
around and around in the same circle
no end and no beginning, no way out
and no way in, except to jump on
the back of the nearest mare, her eyes
dancing with insane flecks of peeling
paint, her mouth wide in a silent scream
(round and round and round she goes
where she stops, nobody knows)
why do the horses always scream, mommy?
but mommy daren't say, for she knows
(from past experience, no doubt) she knows
the circle doesn't end, forever spinning
like a whizzing top, all the flecks of paint
all the colors of our lives go speeding off
into the oblivion beyond the circle, the rut
we travel in. no sweetie, no more rides today.