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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2216788
Life is as unpredictable as a peculiarly irrational number
Cotton candy wafting through sticky nostrils,
elephant ears scalding youthful throats.
Bucket seats rise, legs swinging careless and free,
time marches, its passenger a tightening throat.
Peak ever approaching but forever distant
until rusted support erased from sight.


Stomach-floating fall, first warning tardy,
Mr. Ferris and his giant wheel grind on,
rolling inexorably clockwise to unlit, mazed depths.
Direction, distance? Compass-spinningly unknowable like pi.
Feline, liver-twisting Schrödinger possibilities,
quantum combination of head-spinning heights
and world-tilting, whirling neon descents.

Always in motion, this finite flow of time,
until our visceral unicycle ride finds its graceful end.

16 lines of free verse
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