Saturday, June 17, 2023

The Wooden One

It’s not old, just old-fashioned,
Built to creak, rattle, and scream,
To exercise nostalgia

And generate another
Revenue stream on the braid
Of coiled cyclones and bungees.

You like the rhythm of it,
The clatter slowing to shrieks.
It’s an inelegant beast,

Like yourself, scarier but
Safer. The truly gorgeous
Polycarbonate ciphers

Hide in the trees, muffle screams,
Exercise no nostalgia
Beyond the thing known as play,

The muscular sheath of force
That cycles around itself.
Play tolerates no trespass.

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