"The Wheel"
by Roger Jones

    As the ferris wheel was boarding, we felt it shake
    till it stopped with us on top. With the girl I'd brought,
    I gazed across the fairgrounds -- colored lights, wheels,
    the Haunted Castle, the slow amble of lovers around Midway.
    Farther off, our town lay spread out, its darkened homes,
    red and green traffic lights, its quiet buildings,
    as cool air rode the September night. And then,
    beyond that lay the farmlands, our home : sheer blackness
    where now and then a tiny light twinkled,
    facets of a stone. Here, I thought,

    we can all be held: this moment a wheel,
    that poised and kept us. I breathed the cool air and waited.
    Below us somewhere, at once, the engine coughed
    and clattered, alive. The giant steel frame shuddered.
    Swerving my last gaze outward, I looked once more
    toward the night. Then the girl took my hand. We started down.






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