The Carnival Ride Isn’t Over

It’s late. We sprawl on the back porch with a couple beers, while you reminisce about that time you and an Army buddy drove his cousin’s Duster straight through the night all the way to Coney Island because neither of you had ever ridden a real rollercoaster, only lived one.

There are so many questions I want to ask about those years, the war—but don’t. Why resurrect those demons? You take another sip and strap your tired body once more into the Cyclone’s cracked red vinyl seat, fingers splayed wide as you surrender to each sharp curve and fall.

Photo Credit: Luna Park NYC