marshall hall amusement park

I can still hear
the clank
of the roller coaster
climbing up
the first steep
hill of the wooden
dinosaur, the white
paint peeling in
the april wind.
cross hatched in wood,
planks and two by fours,
beams.
how the car slowly rose
under the weight of us,
struggling to
climb, pulled by
a chain, decades old.
the whole thing creaked and swayed.
rattled like ancient bones.
how we hung on
for dear life
as we approached
the crest where the whole
world could be
seen.
then down and down,
swiftly, falling,
our slight bodies lifted
from the steel seats,
our eyes
wide open with a fierce
wind, our lungs
alive with screams,
our fingers wrapped
tight around the bar
that held us in.
around we would go, side
to side,
up and up, hill after steel
hill, down,
the wheels screeching hot
along the way.
then finally, finally slowing
to a stop
at the flat
platform, where our parents
waited and smiled,
knowing that life
is so much like this ride,
let's do it again.