by Carol Everett Adams
we like. Our waltz down Main Street
is a red-brick thrill ride. We praise
door paint and flowerpots. All signs
turn to the Mad Tea Party, where we
agonize over which giant cup will pour us.
Gate shuts and we scramble, pick pink.
Pastel paper lanterns swim in ribbons
of light. The music spins us to the end,
and we’re tight-lipped, our faces pale green.
— for Shawna
Carol Everett Adams writes poems about Disney theme parks, organized religion, UFOs, and other topics. She lives in the Midwestern United States and works in the tech industry. Her poems have been published in California Quarterly, Euphony, The MacGuffin, The New York Quarterly, Owen Wister Review, Quercus Review, Soundings East, and others. You can connect with her at caroleverettadams.com.