Trouble on Space Mountain

Carol Everett Adams


Dad led brother and me to a private universe,
a tiny rocket, cockpit open, ducking asteroids.

As we walked, the halls narrowed.
The dark flickered fluorescent.

I peeked through windows into space,
saw white bullets screaming across galaxies

like trinkets tossed by God. Every glowing sign
said two per rocket. I thought to vanish through a side exit,

but Dad found a stranger ahead to match me with.
Until we were smashed, speared, or spit out,

she would have to afford the expense of me.
We queued in silver pens, and the fences swung forward.

The lady lifted me in: Raise your hands high! Scream all you want!
Near our turn, I looked back, saw Dad and brother holding hands.


Carol Everett Adams writes poems about Disney theme parks, organized religion, UFOs, and other topics. She lives in the Midwestern United States and has a day job in the tech industry. Her poems have been published in California Quarterly, Euphony, The MacGuffin, The New York Quarterly, Owen Wister Review, Quercus Review, Soundings East, and others. You can connect with her at

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