Lord, steer me again to the edge
of those places bristling with thrill—
right there, before the ticket-seller's booth
while cups and saucers trace their giddy
circles overhead, and the rollercoasters' clatter
drowns the cries issuing from our collective
mouths. Whatever lobs the heart and makes it
teeter between those old frenemies, terror
and ecstasy, also pulls it out of the shallow depths
where it might have just languished, thinking
it was no better than the sludge of tea leaf
misfortunes. Tug hard on the harness so it
comes loose from my shoulders; hold the gate
open to what lies ahead, inviting full gallop.
