At the Deerfield Fair
My Brother and I
Play a game of I-Spy
Tallying the points in our head.
We laugh and we shuffle to mood.
Leopard print tattoos = 5. Cowboy boots = 2.
Tattoos of cowboy boots in leopard print = 100.
The man with a megaphone and the collie dogs corralling a heard of ducks = 777.
We laugh and we shuffle while
Sheriffs direct the ebb and flow of the crowd
Trying to appear loud.
As loud as the tradition we tread.
A loud hat with a badge dazzles the onlooker
Leashing the might of the sun.
Like the prize dazzles the couple near the B.B. Guns.
Shoveling cheese fries into our face
With white plastic utensils.
The hornets gravitate
Towards the mounds of plastic
Paper, napkins, fried starch and soda.
They look like puffs of milkweed tumbling
Amongst the smell of sweet popcorn and livestock.
One big dust puddle.
Parked cars, butt cracks, and diesel fuel.
The bright blue sky stretching overhead
So encompassing it makes your stomach tickle.
We paid eighty dollars to marvel for thirty minutes.
The attracted more intriguing than the attractions.
We laugh and we shuffle our way home.