THE WHEEL BY THE OCEAN
— C.M. Crockford
When you hit the carnival,
slick with sweat
in Philadelphia summer,
You eat food
battered beyond
recognition,
Skip the games
you know
you'll never win,
Breathe in
pot smoke drifting
along with the night.
Then you ride
the Ferris wheel that
presses against the sky.
Look:
When the car dips,
you can see the city
wrapped tight around the Delaware
(so pretty so cold),
a blanket of
black and gold.
And when you turn back,
the lights have given
your lover's face
These wild colors
no one has
ever seen before.
