The lights of the carousel blink once twice in distress.

    You are on main stage

dressed in all-black to blend in, to never be seen.

Instead, I squirrel you away

my claws, your backside,

my teeth fanged and diamond-encrusted.

We are on the Tilt-A-Whirl

we are on the Gravitron, our bodies plastered clay against an otherworldly spin.

We are swans, necked near the bottle cap game no one ever wins,

     no matter the throw’s depth or length.            We are girls

kissing on top of the Ferris wheel

where no one but sky’s grilled sparkled teeth can wink,

      and even then we refuse the intrusion.

Down below, no one understands the distance between forever,

    one casual moment, how even lips can lie.

On stage, you bow. Everyone blows kisses, throws flowers.

     You bow and bow and bow as if you won’t ever be able to stop bowing.

Everyone screams and whistles.          Everyone, for one moment,

knows how it feels to love you.