the bumpercars are sad
and this is not the Jersey Shore,
and all the ride operators have visible open wounds.
The rollerskating rink is a swamp,
but the pond behind the ferris wheel,
where Sloan got sick,
has fish and ugly ducks.
We feed them,
the ends of a loaf of bread,
aka the bread butts,
then jump shoeless in a gross bounce house.
As an adult, putting your shoes on
in front of other adults is a real moment
of vulnerability,
but we had to take them off for the bouncy castle.
The idiot kids go round and round.
The clowns go up and down.
A ticket is five dollars.
A ride is five tickets.
Balloons barely last,
and cotton candy is just poison,
but the only thing that is real
are the smiles.
Because with the heat,
and the Meth mouth men
in charge of our kids lives,
there is no reason to fake the fun.