LA County Fair

Carefully climbing ladder rungs
then sliding on a blue metal chute,
I arrive in the petting zoo.
My fingers sink into deep wool,
springy, thick and soft.
Goats push my back and chew my shirt.
I trip on chickens pecking, scratching,
My mother clucks me out too soon.

We wander in the display buildings-
huge, hanger-sized, cement floored,
crowded, noise-assaulting salesmen in
temples of consumption.

Savoring my mustard smeared lunch,
crunchy and juicy fat,
heaven on a stick,
we walk past the monkey man
with his wind-up music box.
Furry miniature hands scurry
grabbing shiny pennies scattered
on the ground.

The afternoon sun beating on the blacktop
is muted and muffled
by cool gardens,
running streams singing down waterfalls,
smell of mulch, fertilizer and fern.

Funny, the Fun Zone
doesn’t have a
memory marker.

This poem was written from the Fun Fair prompt at dVerse.


9 thoughts on “LA County Fair

  1. smiles….you and julie both touch areas of the fair i had forgotten…my boys love the petting zoo…so fun…and hte man and his monkey…there was always something a bit sinister about that one you know…

  2. So many rich sensory experiences in your sharing.
    Love the, “temples of consumption” so easily recognized at fairs, not always in other arenas of life.

  3. The petting zoo at the fair! Used to do some work there…and the monkey man is always sinister. Glad they don’t do that anymore. Really wonderful poem!

  4. I’m looking forward to our county fair in a few weeks – and this brought up recent memories of a boardwalk trip for my son’s birthday. I think the reminder about a “memory marker” is very practical.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s