Finger burned on Boilerplates

I stepped into the giddiness,
An infant drawn to fairy lights,
So mystified by twinkling eyes
That stirred me into clinking ice
And melted down my rigidness.

I let it lift me, slowly first,
A surfing moon on sunset waves,
Until it wasn’t slow at all,
My heightened senses now aware
Of gravity in recurrence.

Like finding on a Ferris wheel
A figment of forgotten fear
Of churning guts and whirling heads,
A wanting of the praying kind
To slow it down. No, stop it all.

I stood her up again today.

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