At the Carnival

Big fake eyelashes

up close like spider legs

curled and glued

and forced in place

a scavenging seagull in the distance

my grief, strung on telephone wires

my flippant mind
straps me on this Coney Island roller-coaster ride
 Thud- thud- thudding up with
Erratic heartbeat joy

At the top, tipping
gravity compels this urge
to fall

it might hurt
or feel like freedom

but when it’s over
I’ll be back to street level

a rush of blood,
and empty pockets