we rode the Ferris wheel all the way to the top,
where we got stuck miles
(it seemed)
from the firm certainty of the ground
and we sat, silently still,
afraid to look over the edge,
and yet, at the same time, compelled to do just that

nearly simultaneously we peeped over the edge;
careful not to rock the cart
(because we could so easily fall out)
watching
children holding cones of cotton candy
and sipping cherry soda out of curly pink straws

and, oh, how like loneliness it seemed,
rolling lazy circles over a boiling crowd of faceless names
(and we were young; we did not know the disappointment of contemporary love)
and you sat three feet away from me
but we were worlds apart
all at once feeling both translucent
and too opaque