amusement aquamarine

when bitter water aquamarine ran in flumes

painted with waves, running out like wet ribbons

from our minds, through our hose to the backyard to the lawn -

we wouldn't have to wait for summer to come,

for our parents to shuttle us to a place where we ate

fried batter and pink popcorn squares.

camera straps, buckle straps, park maps,

metal and cordon, tennis shoes on hot tar,

all of it during play, all our own!

children of Spielberg, we dressed in striped polyester,

dipped our hands into the warm liquid of the log flume

once a year. but some days we just couldn't wait.

some afternoons we needed the embrace of the chute RIGHT NOW,

so with cardboard half-cylinders in a noonday row and the sky the color of pink popcorn,

we recreated the back-and-forth yank of the log on a roller grade,

horizon tilt and a gutting downpitch -

our own skyway rapids,

tasting of dirt, plastic, and mineral.