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