21 August, 2012


In the night under a sacred sky,
The just awakened and newly fed present themselves
for simple diversions and unorganized laughter.

A rickety contraption made of lights and old plastics
spins and revolves in the air to question faith and physics.
Laughter mixed with wonder and fear is felt.

The night air is still hot and oven-baked, like fresh bread.
Smells spin around like the miniature Ferris wheel,
allowing for nostalgia to overcome nausea.

No one feels embarrassed or out of place; all are free.
Once in a great while, past glees are recreated and the joyous
simplicity of turning in a circle is enough to satisfy the longest fast.

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