the voice of the wurlitzer 
came sugared through the salt
and the cotton-candy clouds
dragged their pink skirts
over the shore
where no ship ever docked

gold glinted
off the brass wotsit
at the center of everything
as if the whole world
had one bright pin
holding it down

the horses rose and fell
and rose
with their wooden throats open
and the painted swan
went nowhere beautifully

we passed it again
and again
passed the terns
the locked arcade
the tide

we passed the version of me
who got everything she ever wanted

she was standing there
in her favorite shades
under the striped awning
just watching me
go round