She lives on a merry-go-round
senses dulled by blurred vision
maniacal calliope music
rides nowhere every day
mired in circle sameness.

She chose the blue horse
its golden mane rich in gilt
matched her lust then shocked
her as its cold cylindrical pole
ignored her calls to stop.

He rides two steeds behind her
eyes wild, hair disheveled
desperately out of synch
up down to her down up
laps the field again and again.

Hot desire fuels
his mad useless pursuit
anchored by metal plates
bolted to the forever
wildly spinning floor.