He searches for shade
Under razor-thin power lines
Snaking haphazardly
Across the fair grounds
Ignoring the faint
But insidious scent of beer

He is nothing more than
A vapor, a phantom limb
Intangible to scattered groups
Of eager families
Smashed skateboarders
Preteen gossip queens

He falls in line
Noticed only by a toddler
Glaring guardedly
Over Mom’s sturdy shoulder
Her flabby cheeks coated
In cotton candy pastels
To match her barrette

He slides into the double seat
His pale skin adhering to a wad
Of moldy lemon Starburst
Clinging to soda-stained plastic
Dented and nicked
The fraying harness
Digs into his pudgy center

He begins a rickety climb
Gazing out over acres
Of flaming fields
Lit by a wedge of moon
Invigorating tangled oaks
With a pewter glow

He hovers noiselessly
Trying in vain to forget
That beneath the twilight’s luster
Lies the same
Worm-infested leaves
Drifting one by one
To the ground