by Tina Barry

A pin in a doll's heart

then one in its foot.

Hot vapor

with its own populace:

The lady at Stop & Shop

with the dead eyes and gray perm.

Your neighbor's pick up truck

grandpa's house

with grandpa inside

and a prom queen

wearing a fake satin dress

corsage pinned just so.


for its years of service

and unblemished safety record

 a Ferris wheel gently rocks

 its last riders

then dumps them to the ground.

People laugh

 at the banality

 of final thoughts.

Closer to the stars

a man finds comfort

recalling the part in his daughter's hair.