We arrive at the fair and pay for our tickets at ten dollars a pop.

To me, it’s a hefty fee for a small amount of fun,

Which is no matter to the kids who carelessly crash into me.

I point them to the direction of the bumper cars,

No doubt a better way for them to exhaust energy.  

 

I feel outdated here.

This isn’t a safe place for an in-betweener like myself.

I’m twenty-one and I feel too old.

Am I too young to feel this old?

I can’t tell if I’m fooling myself into thinking

That the fair lights are pretty,

That the cheese fries don’t have too many calories,

Or that being surrounded by loud, sweaty people is exciting.

 

But I’m on a date of sorts,

And this kind of thinking is hardly helping the mood.

The guy is an old friend of mine,

An important person that I’m attempting to place into a new aspect of my life.

I can’t tell if he feels the same way about the fair.

I don’t know if I should even ask, so I smile instead.

“Well this place is…” I say,

“Exhausting?” He finishes, smiling at me, “I know.”

 

He nudges me in the direction of the ferris wheel

He knows that it’s an old favorite of mine.

“Come on, we can get away from the sugar-crazed children for a while.” He says,

“What do you say?”

His suggestion sounds like heaven compared to walking around the chaotic fairgrounds.

I hate having to be fun-living and youthful.

It’s exhausting to be young.

And in terms of age, I’m too young to feel this old.

He looks like he’s trying too, which I find refreshing.

Maybe we are fooling ourselves thinking we could revisit our youth.

 

But the ferris wheel is only five dollars a person

And we only have to share a car with three preteen kids.

It’s not ideal, but I suppose it’s a good compromise

Since he keeps his arm wrapped around me the entire ride.