Tilt-a-Whirl
Three dollars, three minutes,
Three dollars, three minutes,
the barker tempts. Tilt-a-Whirl
spins our backs against its cylinder wall.
Girls scream, guys muscle their arms,
no one can move legs. It tilts.
Eyes open, eyes shut, doesn’t matter –
stomach floats into throat.
The solstice is so much easier.
Spinning a thousand miles an hour
is like standing still. Nothing
at our back to keep us upright
except atmosphere. Chili dogs
and beer trouble our stomach,
but not the spinning and tilting
under our feet.
In June, vacation comes
for school kids, sun warms the sand
and our bare feet, strawberries pop red
among low green leaves, blueberries
plump for picking, and the fair
visits the town’s vacant lot.
Do you feel the planet shift –
the tilt going the other way?
Sunlight will shorten now
and bring a little diminishment
every day. Hurry, hurry,
the barker calls, Take the ride
of your life.
