The Last Spin

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The Last Spin

Giant Ferris wheel of life
mausoleum of sights,
a maiden’s voyage into
a carnival of faces.
Circling hula hoops,
sipping Jamba juice
in a fancy booth

Champagne vows on jeweled nights,
forget-me-nots tangled in chatter,
nutter natter oscillating
between limerick and slapstick.

Then—
sun breaking on the ocean,
hammocks swaying with piña coladas,
clumsy somersaults,
meandering brooks,
jilted hedgerows,
weepy dandelions.

A cathartic ricochet-

Pick-me-ups—
not a charlatan, not a floozy.
Slim pickings on Sunday radio,
not many arrows in the arsenal.
Chokers, black nails, wine-dark lips,
like detours and impasses,
paper-thin hearts humming with hiccups.

And away from comely comrades,
down the rabbit hole of Wonderland,
jingling keys open to
abracadabra far away—
only to discover:
rusty masks,
weary parades,
thickets of prisms,
prickly burdens,
rose-colored glasses,
sloppy excuses

The wheel quickens,
flinging fragments into air,
each turn dissolving,
until the cycle itself
becomes iridescent, divine.

@Rashi M