this isn’t fair
we used to stare at the carnie all night long.
once he caved and gave us a free ride.
back then we’d wander around the fair
and the lights would blink and swirl
until my head ached.
back then the leather seats of the zipper
were stained with pink and blue swirls,
cotton candy vomit dripping from your lips.
now you stand where the ferris wheel used to be,
it’s ghost spins in your eyes.
you don’t speak,
you just stare.
blinks, big and slow.
sorry, deja vu, you say
and that’s all you say.
so many versions of us have stood here before,
waiting for another ride,
but i guess we’re out of tickets
and the carnie doesn’t feel like giving freebies