Tilt-a-Whirl

Tilt-a-Whirl

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.