Listen to poem:
On a Roundabout
Hang on, You're nearly There!
I'm giddy, spinning around,
So near, yet so far.
On the slippery spinning
dip of serendipity.
Making do with the hoodoo of déjà vu.
I've seen that scene before!
On endless recycles
of somewhere when and there.
My prospectus is shod
with slithery wooden clogs.
Tripping, toppling precipitous,
edging ever closer to flying
right off the roundabout
by the whirling surge.
Whizzing around in circles
on the impending.
Barely holding on
with hands and arms,
billowing and centrifuging
in the passing wind.
Reaching outstretched to catch
just what and when,
could be just happening,
could be just passing on by.
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