The fair is a strange strange land where the food is horrible but you love to indulge, there is nothing to do really except pay to ride rides after you've already paid to be admitted but it is so fun, it is stinky but we linger until dusk, the only thing to buy is stuff you'd regret paying real money for once you get it home but that giant stuffed flamingo seemed so marvelous...it is a place of paradox.
Somehow, even though we swear, "Never again!" we make our way over to the State Fair each year.
We say we do it "for the kids!" But really, it puts our adult sensibilities under spell.
Against our better judgement we ooh and aah over squinting squash,
We begin to fill our perfectly healthy bodies with the likes of spun sugar
and corn dipped in a vat of yellow oily stuff they're calling butter
And it feels so good but we know it is so wrong.
It was my stylish, sensible, mother who proclaimed, "This must be what hell is like."
But, we do it for the children, because...
There is something that draws us to the heights of a ferris wheel turning in the sunlight,
and the gastronomic glistening of fried everythings
And the tinny music that spins us on bobbing fiberglass equines.
At the State Fair, fruit! wins prizes,
And you get to ride in a bowl of macaroni and cheese.
There is nothing like it, really. Even an outbreak of E. Coli. in Wake County (per Dr. Gooch's report) won't keep us from going back next year....maybe.