Memories Revisited
I wrote this poem way back when I was in college and recently reworked it to clarify the theme, which is we’ll try anything when we’re young, especially when someone (a parent, older sibling, aunt, grandparent, etc.) is there to assume responsibility for us; once burned, however, we tend either to step back from repeating the experience or to approach it with fear.
We’ve been to the carnival.
It was
Bright,
And brash,
And loud....
The crowd
Filed in
As the man at the gate
Welcomed us with a weary glance.
Romance?
It lay suspended
Enticingly
As we entered eagerly,
Buoyed by the
Energy
Of the carnival,
Enmeshed in anticipation,
Perhaps even a bt beguiled.
We smiled
At the cotton- candy-coated
Children
And
Roared at the ridiculous
Clowns.
Then we approached the amusements.
We went in.
“Spin the wheel!
Everyone will win!
There are no losers.”
Around and around....
Too bad. Not our number.
So we picked our ten-cent
“Prize” from a pitiful pile of junk....
Because “nodbody’s a loser.”
We laughed.
There was another carnival-
Another wheel-
Once.
My number did not come up.
I cried (so young),
Tried it again.
And again.
Thought,
“No one’s a loser?”
No.
So
We moved on.
“Perhaps we can try later,”
He said.
Perhaps.
But why?
I
Hesitated
As he moved towards the roller coaster.
I tried not to cringe as I mumbled
Something about “not trusting those things.”
He grabbed my hand
And had fastened the safety belt
Before I could flee.
Slowly,’the car climbed the steep slope....
Madeningly, terrifyngly
Slowly....
Andthenitflewdown,
There were screams-
Of terror, of delight..
I didn’t scream.
I couldn’t.
I kept thinking, “We’re going to die.”
Then it was over.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,”
He said.
That other roller coaster....
Back then, it seemed beckoning,
Thrilling,
Promising.....
I rode,
Convulsed by chills
Of delight.
When I sailed down the slopes,
The small weight
Which was my “self” a thousand years ago
Was thrown up
Like a toy in the hands
Of a gentle monster-turned-madman....
But strong arms pulled me down.
We headed for the fun house.
(The adjective belied the nature
Of the place.)
We entered:
I, cautiously;
He, delightedly.
The sounds-
The shrill screams,
The piercing shrieks-
They didn’t terrify;
They chilled....
Tthe house of fun
Became a house of ice,
And I was
Embalmed
In the cold, brittle
Noise.
The mirrors....
Those glass freaks....
Were innumerable,
Surrounding us in hideous ambush.
We were everywhere,
Twisted,
Contorted,
Like a fairytale princess
Turned back into a frog.
Dizzied by the convoluted images
Of our selves,
We managed to escape
That hall of looking-glass truth.
The other fun house
Had actually been
Fun
At first ,
Until I lost my way
In the maze of mirrors
And was surrounded by
A thousand fractured images
Shrieking
Soundlessly....
Those same strong arms
That had saved me from the careening coaster
Again appeared
And ushered me out.
Still dizzy,
Seeing double, triple, sometimes not at all....
We stumbled to the nearst bench
To rest and watch the world
Stagger by.
There were a lot of children,
And parents,
And some very old men.
The children laughed.
The parents tolerated.
The old men
Watched.
We just sat.
Enough of that.
Attracted by the bright lights
Of the ferris wheel,
We rose.
“Not afraid?”
He said,
Almost
Mocking.
I laughed-
How could this calm, steady icon
Frighten anyone?
(Anyone but me?)
It circled around, around....
Then dropped deliberately
Down
To repeat the long climb upwards.
That whisper of a breeze
Known only to passengers of a
Ferris wheel
Played with my hair, my face....
And I closed my eyes,
Pretending that I was sailing over
Some tranquil sea,
And that I wasn’t afraid.
