Today is a hijacked carnival ride.
Today is cotton candy stomachaches.
Motion sickness. The fist in my belly.
The dizzying teapot.
The twister.
I am seven years old.
My cousin and I are pinwheels
spinning too fast.
scared.
She begs the man with cigarette eyes to turn off the Tilt-A-Whirl.
I am silent.
She screams into his tobacco cheekbones.
I am silent.
She pleads with his nicotine lips until he parts them in submission
and everything
Stops.
I am silent.
She vomits next to a bumper car.
I am silent.
The cigarette eyes take one last drag.
This is exactly the moment. And you have captured the creepiness.
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