All the fun of the fair
the noise, the smells, the spills
the fear – that wheel soars high,
but I want to go there.
Clanking dodgems crash
and grind, provoking squeals
from inept drivers
Candy floss beards
sticky little hands
roll pennies down a slot to lose
and tears roll down cheeks.
Swaggering beer-fuelled boastful blokes
pick up lethal weapons
to fire at and miss the targets,
failing to win the teddy bear.
Games of chance and games of skill
carousel horses and what you will
mud and squalor but beauty still –
that’s the fun of the fair.
A rather uimaginative contribution to Gay Reiser Cannon’s delicious prompt for dVerse Meeting the Bar. Some poets have come out of the two months of poem a day challenges writing out of their skins. I am not one of them.