the midway
flashes of you
lights bolting
from a polaroid I never took

they dance
suspended in a minor key
balanced in the silent space
they wisp
like threads of hair with
windows down
they slip into my mind
and stick like
caramel popcorn fixed
between my tooth and tongue

after the dark
after the rides have closed
and the parking lot lies doused
with scattered ticket stubs
and cotton candy wrappers

fragments
pieces
and flashes of you.