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Friday Night Parade Rains

Remind me-
of Friday night parade rains 
or antique engines’ stutter.
Describe how-
the air hangs with roasted beef, fried dough, and the stale yeastiness of the beer pit.
Meet me-
near the cake wheel, past the show animals but just before the prized produce. 
Hold me-
on the whirling rides as they toss us that way and this.
Kiss me-
in each corner of these sacred grounds, 
the country fair to which all others can’t compare.
Return with me-
year after year. 
Just you and for a while, 
and then a stroller in tow. 
Remind me-
of our face painted children racing around, 
filthy and full.
Describe how-
our pockets are empty, but our hearts swell.
Meet me-
at the fair, just you and I again, 
our kids, busy with theirs.
Hold me-
this hot, August Saturday. 
Is it larger now or have we slowed?
Kiss me-
in each corner of these sacred grounds, 
the country fair to which all others can’t compare. 
Return with me-
year after year. 
Just you and I 
braving Friday night’s parade rain.

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