The Fun-Fair

 

Bodies spin, stomachs churning

Wurlitzing like teenage yearning

Shrieks whip up a sugar snap

Ozone crack cherry-pink beehive hairdo

For tonight the scrubland is suited and booted

Embraces the fair - holds tight

As snug as a razor-bladed lapel

 

That flush in your cheek is a fighting chance

The iron in your blood - the weekend

Squeezing through overcrowded veins

Jostling for that single release

A victory where metal meets metal

In a grasp that’s as far from tender

As lips are from a steel toe-cap kiss

 

The fun-fair has hit the town

So all the lads cruise down

Looking smart and fit

Don’t they all look fucking cool?

Don’t they all look up for it?

 

And the girls seek a similar sort

Of cruelty to their sport

But with a focus that’s far straighter

Victims get their just desserts

Fit lads get fucked later

 

The preening and the glamour

Hands unseen and clamour

Of voices dragging laughter

Across the surface of machines

That struggle against the inevitable rust

This many people can only mean

Pleasure at its most hostile

 

Like the last minute of a summer’s evening

That ends with a wasp’s sting

The prize that decorates the drain

With all the suffocated goldfish

Triumphs ring as hollow as a test your strength bell

When you say - Scream if you want to go faster

You mean - Scream.  I won’t tell.