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
alongside 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.
Originally Published in Toho Journal Online, 2019
From the Writer: "I’m an autistic/ADHD writer whose work has been featured in Vast Chasm, No Cinema! Quarterly, Neologism Poetry Journal, Wilde Boy, and Vastarien among others. I’ve published two chapbooks, sung in two bands, co-hosted a podcast, and have co-written a short horror film now in development. Currently I live in Philadelphia with my cat, but I’ve been in San Francisco and Boston too. You can find more @cm_crockford or my website, cmcrockford.com."