love can be like that

I used to love the roller coaster
at Marshall Hall.
the tall
curve of steel
that rose above
the Maryland pines,
the shiny rails
fenced off by
rickety wood slats,
painted white
and always peeling.
the screams

would carry throughout
the beat
park.

at times you felt as if
you'd fall out,
be ejected into
the starry night,
into the pink glow of
the carnival below.

but you hung on, eyes wide
shut.
knuckles red from
the iron bar you gripped.

I used to love the ride,
the frenetic squeal of the box
cars,
the slow rise of the first hill
clinging and clanging you
along until it peaked
and sent you into

a fearful but exhilarating
plunge.
love can be like that.