Gravitron

It was as though a sinister alien craft landed

in my church’s parking lot,

enormous rotating silver diamond.

For years it was a complete mystery

what went on inside,

other than a lot of spinning

and maybe someone getting sick.

One day, I gathered up all my courage

and joined the line for the ride,

probably as the result of some kind

of peer pressure.

Eventually it was my turn

to step inside the darkened interior

and stand in front of a red padded panel

on the wall.

I was terrified, of course,

but oddly comforted

by the Def Leppard song

being broadcast at deafening volumes.

Finally, we started to revolve,

faster and faster,

until we were stuck firmly to the walls.

We all climbed the rising padded panels

our spines and internal organs were glued to,

and some brave souls turned themselves

upside down for the duration.

But I closed my eyes,

focusing on Bon Jovi or Whitesnake.

I wouldn't be sick if I listened to the music.

Eventually the spinning slowed,

and our bodies slid back down,

feet back on the metal floor.

We exited the ride,

exhilarated,

dizzy,

ears ringing,

eyes blinded by sunlight.