Ferris Wheel 2
 

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.

 

C.M. Crockford is a writer on the autistic spectrum with work in Neologism Poetry Journal, Oddball Magazine, and now here. He lives with his partner and their cat in Philadelphia.