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.