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

anymore.