Theme Park
If life is a ride
Mine has broken down
And lies dismantled
Rusting in the sunlight
Hulking on the edge of vision
Lurking in the middle of the crowds
As happier people lead happier lives
On brand new rides.
The wires are cut
The cables no longer connect
Paint flakes away like dandruff
On the paths, trampled under
Children’s trainers, mothers with
Push-chairs, fathers and sons,
Teenagers, teachers, bankers
Preachers, hard boots across
My crumbling bones.
No sudden rise to the top
And sharp drop, or gradual rotation
Of elation, childlike excitement
No balloons floating to the sky,
No slow descent
And nothing left to lament
Just a carcass to be picked dry
Bleached, polished and sent
Away.