Fairground Dreams.


Back in the curve again, dipping down in the roller coaster as the moon rises and tells me she is nearly full.

Awake all night riding in that cart as the merry go round horses whip with golden hooves the dawn. I watch them pass as I turn and spin through the black. I grab hold of a mane and a horse cracks beneath my palm, china bones splintering into tiny stars.

I am thrown from the cart and the moon stutters out a sigh, she ladles the light to the East.

I lay in the west,

The dark comes to play at my door.


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