Good Clean Fun


The sweet fried dough dusting
from our mouths to our toes, hairy-
armed signal for the ring toss beckoning
me to win you a bear from the

black box of prizes sitting unopened
next to the Strawberry Cups,
our rubber souls wet from the moist dark
tufts of grass and a candy apple

I’ve cut open a slice
of, I hand it to you on the edge
of a knife, licking the still viscous
syrup flooding down the spine

or gasping for air, flat on your
back on the wall of Gravitron,
face ecstasy (revulsion?), squirming
against the grimy underside

Of the rides or maybe enjoying
it –panting carnies, craterous
thighs, lack of teeth all at once
electrifying and pungent – we eat

out each others’ paper cones
and thick plastic straws and shudder
while clowns paint our faces red,
grins painted over our stained lips.



Navy Pier, 2010

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