Around a stationary center we, spin with a force centripetal.
Always the dance, together apart; a waltz, parallel, to the organist, our muse.
Wheels and belts drive us;
the pinion turns; on a platform I stand, my partner, from brass, hangs.
A hesitation, a hitch;
My head, my eye, turned.
Away I run; she gallops towards me; forever ahead and behind.
Given time, I’d wait.
Given momentum, I’d…