Were I to pause, I’d have to sober up.
Better to look a fool, stark naked,
screaming and shrieking as it all spins round,
even if it’s unseemly to get
so out of control. Like the day the big dipper
ground to a halt. The contraption had broken down.
Prosaically the mechanic clambered
along the rails, bawled at the people below.
We sat there through minutes, long enough
for it all to evaporate: the fear, the airy stomach.
The cut-price pleasure vanished, and left
only the narrow tracks reeking of oil,
nails, a light switch seen from an angle,
a dreary Hades, real life. No more bumping,
swooping. And I froze. No more tumbling,
or dizziness as you gasped to catch your breath.