My coney island baby.

Icy winds whip the horses up the incline. climbing higher and higher. the twisted faces all frozen in anticipation. they climb further. the ascent is building like an impending doom. the all too familiar sound of the crank clicking over and over dragging the carriages towards the heavens. there is anxious fear dancing in the pit of their stomachs. nearly at the top now. inhale, hold your breath. now the screams. loud piercing screams. the joy of fear and excitement. the knowledge of safety makes it fun to dance with fear. the cargo follows the track down an impossibly vertical decline. the idea that you are safe sits in the carriage next to you. keeping you warm. warm with the notion you will survive. only a few more twists and turns. you are almost out of breath. the ride is over. your voice box has been defiled. but you walk away with an almost triumphant grin. that was one hell of a rollercoaster.

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