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The Calliope Played
It comes back in pieces-
the warm hush of summer dusk,
the way the carnival lights
blinked awake one by one
like fireflies on a warm night.
I remember the gravel under my shoes
the ticket booth with its peeling paint,
the woman who tore my stub
as if it were opening a secret
meant only for me.
The air smelled of popcorn and cotton candy,
and somewhere a calliope played
a tune I hadn't heard before
yet somehow remembered.