The Main Attraction
front seat rollercoaster ride:
tracks stacking up and i can't
lean forward to see where
we go. breath held tight as i
want to hold your hand,
i climb up to clouds and
azure skies, crystallized in
my dizzy head. bad case
of vertigo: your synchronized
words and smiles like camera
flashes leave me dazed, vision
dotted. i followed you here to
the peak, now tipping

over; falling and everything falling
with me out of place. i don't
remember having motion
sickness. swallowed
in speed, i jerk into place
at the bottom, jolting halt to knock
me back together. sweep to
ascent, and you pull me back
to the top where i stand alone, forget
all the people sitting behind me and
the steepness that never was before.
no parachute, no trampoline to catch
me—not swept off my feet, but
my feet swept out from under me.

you smooth the falter, flicker
back like Christmas lights strung
up around me. i'm caught in
the twinkle (like your eyes) and
come closer—moth to flame, i'm
hypnotized by you: snapping
gravity and letting me float.

but you're full of air. again:
plunge down so out of sorts
(my heart's beating in my
throat, choking me up). pluck
me from the sky, and i land
hard. fool: i thought i could
inhale thin air (so high up), but
you stopped my breath.

front seat rollercoaster ride:
first to disembark, get my
shoes and run (no barefoot
dances for me). i evaporated
with the clouds you took me to.

another girl is grins and giggles:
back seat, slow and smooth and
adrenalin jumping her heart out
of order for you. you showered
her with sun-kisses, left her flushing
pink and pretty;

forgot me after one
spark, electrocution bumping
me off-key. colorful and bright
and flash: intoxicating, seeping
under my skin to bloodstream, toxic;
i want to throw up.