Theme Park I grew up in a theme park. I was every ride. I was the visiting crowd which crocodiled from attraction to attraction along the hopscotch path of comic-book painted feet. I never missed a stop. I never forgot to stare in wonder where the guidebook called for gaping and politely admonished expressions of awe. Still gratitude demanded more than throwing my hands in the air and screaming as the Big Dipper plummeted from paternal heights. I had to wear the promotional T-shirt; caress each fluffy souvenir.
Graeme Bes-Green
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