the smell of cigarette smoke hits your nose like a bellyflop
the lights, the sounds
screams of terrified teens trapped seventy feet in the air by their own will
only to come flying down like the birds they aren't
seas of people ebbing and flowing
little ones running free leave you wondering, "where are his parents"
up and down and round and round you go on the carousel
down the peptobismol pink slide in a potato sack
having races, and losing
you make yourself sick in the teacups, spinning way too fast
you find old friends, and might make a few new ones
you all hit the kiddie rides over and over
don't mind the stares
who cares if you're way too old for indiana jones
or even the bumble bees
go have fun
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