At the State Fair
I wander. Caloric food stops me.
Sometimes there’s good music.
This year a man in a black shirt
plays a country guitar in front
of a shining ferris wheel.
He sings about love, it’s endless,
which I guess makes it real. Even
the universe isn’t endless. Trillions
of years are barely a handshake.
On the ferris wheel I rise
above crowds. Strapped in,
I can’t wander. I toss my decisions
to the moon. At the top
we sit for maybe a minute.
It’s endless. Will we ever drift
back to the ground? Suspension.
Voices well below our feet. Night
like a roof about to cave in.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book out from Assure Press called Uneven Steven. His work has appeared in: Brittle Star, Hawaii Review, Amsterdam Quarterly, Orbis, and elsewhere.