Behind the photogenic stand,
A synthetic kalache.
The hero buys junk
From a dealer of plasticized dreams.
I light up. A salty Marlboro.
Salty tears. The sincerity of my face
A pulsating neon.
Looks, sharply my way.
The crowd looks over.
Over, over, over and over. A tombstone.
Cigarette butts litter this lawn.
A ferret nibbles a piece of cardboard.
My face slides across the surface of the wind
A forest of neon lights. Flash. Flash. Flash.
The inflatable castle.
The plastic horses, unmoving.
A screen and a fight to the death.
I swallow my gum.
The wind irradiates the murky water.
Pink, yellow and green ducks.
Wait. Wait! Come and surprise them
In their liquid idyll.
The glare of a streetlight stains the cries.
Shadows populate the fairground.
Disfigured in their way.
An army of faces. Haunted. Joyful.
A pink stucco glance.
Come and kiss me. She dares.
And repaints my urban soul
With motor oil.
Banal arrogance. Spread like wax.
Burned. Mad. Burned. And. Raving mad.
The parking lot. The kids run.
A fluorescent siren sounds.
City dwellers breathe. In. And out.
Detuned convulsions of a party.
A man frozen.
Toys sway in the wind.
Like notes in a score.
Shakira. Shakira. Shakira.
A pod inclined. 90 degrees.
Suspended over the void.
Three teenagers undress.
Panic rings. A score.
The facade of the deserted go-kart.
A pinball machine. Sizzles and cries.
Green cans. Broken.
Eternal pop. Stubborn caries.
Speed of the party.
Psychedelic sound system.
A street performer.
Trees. Pollution. Absent clarity.
Trestles in front of trampolines
And then the illusion of the unavoidable descent.
But look! Vertigo!
The pier of Blackpool.
See! The imperturbable rotation.
See! The distant factories.
The ferris wheel piled up.
Bland sugar pink kiss.
Cotton candy insulin.
Red sparkly lips.
Suspended from the starry ceiling
Of the immense and constellated sky.
Black deluges and lost lights
Drift in the frozen universe.
Celebrate the end. Winter.
I, however, climb.
Your silhouette fades.
A misty confusion looms,
But I am calm now.
My breath leaves a trail.
Haunted. Spooky concrete.
Forgotten on top of the laughing crane,
I am close to the frost and the rain
And the one I love appears to me
In the fumes. In the mist.