Hi Mike, you’re welcome! I agree with you about the old wooden ones. There’s a pretty famous one in a beautiful area of Central California. It borders a beach and there is an old style boardwalk winding between them. I wish you could go there. Beautiful!
This piece really captures the strange bargain of amusement park fear — how we line up for a little taste of danger, knowing it is probably controlled, but never entirely forgetting the possibility that it might not be. I loved the way the poem moves from rotting wood and rattling chains into something almost mythic: riders as a “barbarian horde” returning from simulated death. The final image of being called back by “ghosts of your own voice” is especially strong. It turns the thrill ride into memory, and memory into a haunting.
Did the abandoned-ride imagery come first for you, or did the poem begin with the feeling of having cheated death?
There's the famous imagery of the abandoned ferris wheel at Pripyat, the town next to the Chernobyl power plant. All the imagery from it is haunting, like life got abandoned in the midst of happening, but the idea was heavily influenced by that.
That makes complete sense. The Pripyat ferris wheel has that terrible suspended feeling to it—like joy was interrupted mid-breath and never allowed to resume.
I love how you carried that influence into the poem without making it feel like a simple reference. The abandoned ride becomes more than a place; it becomes a symbol of life, memory, fear, and momentum suddenly frozen in place. “Life got abandoned in the midst of happening” is such a haunting way to describe it.
Mike, I love how you make the ride feel like something much larger than a roller coaster. It becomes this beautifully absurd ritual where we pay money to be frightened, strapped into machinery we know is meant to terrify us, and then emerge triumphant because, for a few minutes, we convinced ourselves we had cheated death. The details: the “cardboard pizzas,” the wobbly legs, the mechanical roar fading into memory—bring the whole thing back to earth. And perhaps that is the quiet truth underneath it: we don’t always want safety. Sometimes we want to feel the proximity of danger, just close enough to remember how precious it is to be safely alive.
Wonderful. All describing that feeling of riding the coaster, that feeling of being close to death, and all those little things you tend to notice on there. The harness, any little creaks along the track and that familiar hiss and returning to the start.
All put together so beautifully and in describing how such things then become memory, reading it triggered some of my own past roller coaster memories.
I really enjoyed how this captured the strange attraction of roller coasters—the way we willingly step close to fear, knowing we'll probably come back safely. What stayed with me most wasn't the ride itself, but the ending: how those moments become memories that keep calling us back long after the noise has faded. That's something many experiences in life seem to have in common.
What a thrilling ride!
Thank you so much Christopher! Welcome back, your absence was noticed
Very kind of you.
Hi Mike,
thank you for bringing me along with you on this fantastic ride, where I could literally feel the wind whipping my hair around my face.
Thank you Kelly! Old wooden rollercoasters are the best!
Hi Mike, you’re welcome! I agree with you about the old wooden ones. There’s a pretty famous one in a beautiful area of Central California. It borders a beach and there is an old style boardwalk winding between them. I wish you could go there. Beautiful!
Oh, sounds like Monterey
Or that one from the Lost Boys movie
I lived in San Diego in the mid 80s and spent a lot of time in the LA area too with family, OC, and southern Oregon. I love Cali
Oh, this is marvelous!
Thank you Nora!
Hmph! Maybe that's the whole reason we trust carneys with our lives, to know death can be cheated - and really pretty cheap!
Yes, buy a ticket, take a ride.
At your own risk.
Thank you for reading!
Our rehearsals for death are also mortal.
Indeed they are, thank you Gan!
Not sure what’s more terrifying, the ride itself or the intimacy of gravity. Great poem x
Hahaha thank you MoTy!
Always a lot to unpack in your wonderful poetry. Artificial peril and life’s decay.
Thank you John!
This piece really captures the strange bargain of amusement park fear — how we line up for a little taste of danger, knowing it is probably controlled, but never entirely forgetting the possibility that it might not be. I loved the way the poem moves from rotting wood and rattling chains into something almost mythic: riders as a “barbarian horde” returning from simulated death. The final image of being called back by “ghosts of your own voice” is especially strong. It turns the thrill ride into memory, and memory into a haunting.
Did the abandoned-ride imagery come first for you, or did the poem begin with the feeling of having cheated death?
There's the famous imagery of the abandoned ferris wheel at Pripyat, the town next to the Chernobyl power plant. All the imagery from it is haunting, like life got abandoned in the midst of happening, but the idea was heavily influenced by that.
That makes complete sense. The Pripyat ferris wheel has that terrible suspended feeling to it—like joy was interrupted mid-breath and never allowed to resume.
I love how you carried that influence into the poem without making it feel like a simple reference. The abandoned ride becomes more than a place; it becomes a symbol of life, memory, fear, and momentum suddenly frozen in place. “Life got abandoned in the midst of happening” is such a haunting way to describe it.
Thank you!
This was BRILLIANT! You describes the terror of the ride perfectly (which I why I will never ride one of this old creeky coasters). I loved it!!
Thank you Laura!
You’re so welcome! 🤩
Mike, I love how you make the ride feel like something much larger than a roller coaster. It becomes this beautifully absurd ritual where we pay money to be frightened, strapped into machinery we know is meant to terrify us, and then emerge triumphant because, for a few minutes, we convinced ourselves we had cheated death. The details: the “cardboard pizzas,” the wobbly legs, the mechanical roar fading into memory—bring the whole thing back to earth. And perhaps that is the quiet truth underneath it: we don’t always want safety. Sometimes we want to feel the proximity of danger, just close enough to remember how precious it is to be safely alive.
Thank you Dipti!
Awesome 🤩
Thank you V S
Wonderful. All describing that feeling of riding the coaster, that feeling of being close to death, and all those little things you tend to notice on there. The harness, any little creaks along the track and that familiar hiss and returning to the start.
All put together so beautifully and in describing how such things then become memory, reading it triggered some of my own past roller coaster memories.
Thabk you Gary
I really enjoyed how this captured the strange attraction of roller coasters—the way we willingly step close to fear, knowing we'll probably come back safely. What stayed with me most wasn't the ride itself, but the ending: how those moments become memories that keep calling us back long after the noise has faded. That's something many experiences in life seem to have in common.
Thank you Antonio!