A RIDE

I'm riding forward with my ribs
on the handle of a shopping cart
down a long tar hill.

A little child in a bright blue jumpsuit
stands inside the shopping cart
gripping the bars with his tiny hands.

Every few seconds we grin at each other
I give him the thumbs up
the speed increases. Gas stations & haystacks
are melting & upending
on either side

and all around us
airplanes are silently plummeting
in all directions across striped acres of sky
their broken wings on fire.
This is all a great show for the kid. I like it too.

One of the wheels on the shopping cart
is a bit crooked, and it wobbles wildly
(the kid doesn't care; he giggles when we fishtail);
I have to keep leaning to the left to keep us straight
so we don't crash into a swamp
or roll slower into the snore
of the everyday world.