As a child I loved the fairground. Waiting for it to arrive was like Christmas. Memories seem to be always associated with colour — ordinary days were mostly grey.
Close your eyes
Burgers onions do-nuts — diesel, grease, oil,
Hot dogs on the boil,
Merged — in one — the only one — aroma of the fair.
Music over music — all vying for your ear,
Hiss, beat, hiss, talk, scream, rap, hiss, shout,
what is that hiss about?
Claxon! — the ride comes alive,
will I survive?
“Hold tight riders— here we go,”
“Do you wanna go faster?”
Don’t let go.
The lights the lights…
Red —green — blue,
Yellow —green— white,
Shining through — their friend — the night.
Open your eyes…
Oh my God where am I? — all I see is sky.
The floor’s up there,
Then it’s ground,
Then it spins,