Changing Trains
I liked blondes that summer
“kiss me please”
farmers
hands
wrapping
my waist
in the beer tent
Rolling out the Barrel
one
two
three
sheltering
rides on the Zipper.
At the top
We looked
over a field
watching pumpjacks
between rows
gas flares blowing
rotten eggs
across tassels.
Closing my eyes
oil wells rose up
like viaducts
and I boarded a train
skimming over
light rails.
By Halloween
the Polka stopped.
Schlitz cans rolled
just as
Jamie Lee Curtis
Screamed.
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