STATE FAIR MEMORY, NO. 5

The thrum of guitar strings

Lifts him high above the crowd

And that frenetic noise.

The metal thunder-rumble

Of the carnival rides sifts

Into nothingness like the fragrances

Of barn, fast food stands,

Popcorn, cotton candy,

Ciders and beer all drifting away.

Wrapped in a cloud of music,

He floats free.

A hand slips gently into his,

Her softness leans into him.

As she lays her head on his shoulder,

The silkiness of her hair

Brushes his jaw.

Suspended in a memory,

He slowly smiles, listening:

It is their song.

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