around we go

the carousel
moves slowly around.
the grind of
rusted edges screeching
below
our feet.
the strange plastic
horses
with smiles, with eerie
melted frowns.
once white or black
they're muted now by age
and sun. broken stirrups
that flap.
the music
is warped,
a kaleidoscope
of sound.
the keeper holds his
hand
on a greased bar,
to stop and start our ride.
a knot of keys looped
through his
blackened jeans.
around we go. around we go.
around, never knowing
where it might
stop,
where it might end.