Penny Lions

As a child she gazed at the penny lions,
slotted metal creatures
disappear behind hidden folding doors.

The scene was made merry by the bulbs
that framed the viewing window,
illuminating the arcade.

Eggs glowing warmly, a carnival dream
with calliope score and
dashed with kaleidoscope measures,
a palette edged by death.

Soon this panorama would become nothing,
A dusty relic in the collection of a fantastically wealthy Long Island queen.
Lording over an empty field, trampled grass.

(Nothing more. Alone.)