the price

painted steel & wood frameworks arch high into the blue
rush of wind and whirr of rollers on twisted tracks

the masses curse the length of hot sweaty zigzagging lines
that they paid the price of a dozen meals to stand in

i want to lose my voice screaming
but not while a child loses her voice permanently!

starved

& her mother's parched vocal cords no longer can sound the pained melody
of the mourning song
you could barely hear it,
the city's rumble-grumble of greed
drowning her out

along with me, and you, and the screams
the click-click-clack of the coaster track & rush of wind
drowning her out

pushing past the site of her grief
to secure our place in line
for a thirty second thrill

rolling to a halt all dizzy and just in time
to buy a ten dollar sandwich and curse
the price.