The Job at the Amusement Park
Jay’s lucky.
Not everyone rafts under the stars.
The water’s magical. Bluegreen
from a tube labeled,
“Night Descending on Orchard.”
The air, chilled by A/C units,
hums. Fog
from dry ice, vents in the floor.
Sculptures.
Jay’s favorite:
a glass knife in a glass hand,
the arm weirdly crooked, the arm
jutting from a tree trunk
simulated in marble.
The brochures, dusty.
Conjuring museum visits.
Sheets canvas. Banks
portraits the eyes travel.
Then slip coolly by.
Jay lies with the guests.
They follow the trees.
Rome. Red Delicious.
Souvenirs in the gift shop.
A nozzle blows mist on their cheeks.
Jay calls the ride, “September Market.”