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Tea Cups (#333)

Facing death is like riding any
spinning ride. You are flung out from
the center toward the edge. Death is waiting
for you in that void.
Then there is the centripetal pause
when you are no longer
spinning and you can make eye contact with
people waiting in line
until you are spun back to the middle
to life as you knew it.

Some people love this.
They yell to spin faster
to go farther into the void
before returning. Always faster.
Always farther.
Me? I just throw up.

 
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Posted by on November 5, 2019 in new poetry

 

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