A hot day to seek 
that perfect ride
in the fair,

but since all are spread
within my head
I drag my younger self

from the house of mirrors
where he sees him melt
to the horror tunnel

where we stand on the deck of heat,
chase the summer whale
with harpoon of disaster in our hands.

And we ride a mare in the carousel.
A hot day. I can hardly like 
the pillows my body touches,
and cannot push them away.
I shake my head. A giggle
will reverberate and escape
to the other side of the skull.