wafting skyward on the aroma of
cotton candy popcorn roasted
french fried corny dogs;
up uP UP and over
the tip of the world.
Rolling, falling feathers in our stomach.
Wig-waging the worn weathered
eliciting screams from nuts, bolts
The blurred expressions in the snake-like line
shrink in obscurity as the
H o r i z o n E x p a n d s
Watch your step,
exit to the right.
Suzanne M. Kelly
Copyright © 1992-2018 Suzanne M Kelly