Ferris Wheel Ridei.
The Ferris Wheel lifted us slowly into the air, creaking with the effort.
The pods of two people or less sliced through the orange clouds, so wispy you could mistake them for smoke billowing out of the machines engine.
We reach the peak of the ride and hang, for a few seconds, at the top of the big wheel, looking out over the fair and the surrounding town.
The ride creaks as we begin our jerky descent back down to earth. My ears pop as we get close enough to the ground to see the details on people's faces.
The wheel stops and starts as it lets people out of their pods. Soon the ride operator is opening our door and
Drift SestinaDoce me quod est verum; quis amat in amatores?
Before the sun has stretched its rays I have drifted
Upon her. My eyelids fall open and note her palms
Are curled in crescents as if a lighter and its fluid
Needed sheltering from a breeze or breath. The balm
On her hands shimmers a lunar blue; I'm kindled
To awaking her by the twitch and vague resistance
Of my calf twisting around her heel. I cautiously resist
Brushing the bristles of seductive words into her drifting
Dreams and speechlessly talk her awake with kindly
Offerings to cup her hands in my curling palms.
Drawing my knuckles into her in spirals, the balm
On her fingers feel