I remember being taken,
as if on rails,
past the stagecraft.

behind it are screams,

and behind the cardboard people,
are my disembodied friends.

The kit-kat in my hand,
was given to stop me,
and it too is melting…
the tears are in my lap.

and I’m supposed to sit here,
and this is meant to be fun.

what I remember is…
not wanting
what was given.

the kit-kat,
chocolate in my hand, melting
and a toy in my hand,

would scare me even more.

the toys are alive.

It’s dark,
and in the dark
I cannot tell
if my father is one of them,

puppets, I suspect.