Rich Youmans

County Fair

His parents point out the ticking wheels of chance, the bean bags hurtling through thick summer air, the tossed rings flying like UFOs. They stop to watch two boys aim water guns at the laughing-wide mouths of clowns. Pink balloons expand from each clown’s cap until the largest one explodes. His parents clap. Bobby keeps his eyes on the trampled grass, on stray bits of popcorn, discarded Popsicle sticks. Younger kids follow him from booth to booth, point to his bulbous forehead, mimic his awkward gait. They laugh at the incomprehensible sounds—tu-ka, do-gaw, phlet—when his parents ask him if he’d like funnel cake or lemonade, to ride the merry-go-round. “C’mon, kiddo,” his father finally says, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders. Far off, a bell rings, a crowd cheers.

round and round
two enameled blue eyes. . .
brass ring's glint

---

About the Author

Rich Youmans has been writing haiku, haibun, and related essays for nearly 40 years and still wonders where the time went. He and his wife, Alice, live on Cape Cod, where they recently collaborated on a regional anthology, From the Farther Shore: Discovering Cape Cod and the Islands Through Poetry (Bass River Press, 2021).