By: John Hansen
Just past 9 p.m. one last look up: Eyes move to blazing neon lights in rose twirling into bloom above the Orbiter, swing in a blink, then dizzy down in swirls. They giggle with glee at what the mind knows: all revelry must end. A clap, swear, and shriek. Then, no – another jolt! another rose! Turbo bulbs flash, bright into blur as if by flashing they might make each pod spin wildly into the last lit monument – Ali Baba’s pendulum sways to its height, slowly pulses of warmth drive the motor, a rush, then push, it sweeps again. The glow of the logo details the passengers pointing from their seats. A breeze wafts grease of half-eaten funnel cakes downwind to mayflies atop timeworn tents. Cicadas call into darkness that won’t invite us back. Sweaty, familiar faces soon disappear to trek the eight blocks home. As the whining heat relents carnies load up attractions. Rides move to the next town all while a cage of desks awaits an end to summer already gone.
Bio: John Hansen
John Hansen received a BA in English from the University of Iowa and MA in English Literature from Oklahoma State University.
His work has appeared in The Summerset Review, The Pluralist, Philological Review, The Griot: The Journal of African American Studies, One Sentence Poems, The Drabble, PopMatters, Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature, and others.
John teaches developmental writing, composition, and literature courses at Mohave Community College in Arizona.
Read more at johnphansen.com.
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