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,
eyes blinded by sunlight.