what 'racecar driver' really means, you may never know, but review this page to begin your journey inside the head of Winter Ferris
FERRIS WHEEL IN WINTER
Everything's dismantled but the Ferris wheel,
an iron hoop in starlight. The leaves are pale and purple
as they scutter the fairground. Everything's closed,
the guard says, come back in May.
But soon he and I are speaking of carnies
and night work, of his daughter's tattoo
and the murmur in his heart. Yours, he says,
is buum; buum; buum; buum; and mine
is buum-buhbuum, buum-buhbuum.
I do not smile. It's vital circuitry.
This way, he says, and we cross
the asphalt boldly like thieves, with no one
to witness our trespass. The wheel creaks
in the freeze of pre-dawn, and the guard
unlocks a carriage. I climb inside.
The wheel jerks forward. The chair draws back
and starts its astral climb.
To be great is to be misunderstood
To play pictionary is to do something stimulating
Feeling doesn't feel that great and neither does believing in all the things that might exist in the "if onlys" and "what ifs." I'm at a loss of words for the first time in a long time. My thoughts have erased completely, for I'm focusing on wishes, hopes and dreams of hidden things that still never existed. I've laughed so that I wouldn't cry, yet laughed until I cried. That, in itself, is Ironic. All my life, I've held onto this thread of hope. I sat there and watched it unravel. Then one day, failure comes along and it doesn't feel so bad, because when compared to unraveling hope, failing feels great. Failing will never let me down, nor will it act any different around me. I can depend on failing. Life's too complicated to worry about anything. Life's too short to focus on "what could be." We just need to focus upon the "what is" and go from there.
You are always too young to love, until you do
-An Anonymous Lawrence
As I'm sitting in the darkness of my room, in the midst of my thoughts, a familiar voice calls my name. Immediately, instantly, I recognize the whisper from so far away. Miles upon miles, across the distance, and yet so close. I can sense you, I can feel you right beside me. As dialogue continues on, our eyes shut tight as still frames come, once again, to life. Refreshing memories that are never too far away. The narrator teasing me in the simplest of ways. Certain words are always heard but always reflecting the same effect of the first time spoken. Caught up in this amazing design, moments frozen in time. I see your face in pictures, in the reflections of mirrors. It's getting late as we prepare for the facing of tomorrow. Happily I drift into my unconsciousness. Once again, dwelling on our midnight rendezvous.