JEFF RYAN

MIDSUMMER MIDRIFFS

Bellybuttons at the beach
Innies filled with sand and sunscreen,
some adorned with jewels
Outies tanned and acting conspicuous
one encircled by a tattoo of flames.

A girl in a white bikini stretched out her towel.
She gave me an odd look.
Did she know I was staring?
When her stomach crunched up as she sat,
I swear her navel winked at me.

NUTS AND BOLTS

the Cyclone at Coney Island
hey, it’s officially a landmark
you have to ride it once
they all told me, smirking

a 99-year-old roller coaster
a throwback to wool bathing suits
black-and-white postcards
and nickel hot dogs at Nathan’s

there are more impressive rides
taller, faster, corkscrewing
what sets this one apart
is the fear that it might BREAK apart

I envision bolts popping loose
like champagne corks
twisted wreckage
my scattered remains everywhere

an old coaster made of wood
are words that shouldn’t go together
hopefully the termites are waiting
for the centennial before they arrive

the people ahead of us just got off
a lady almost lost her pants
a guy is clutching his swollen elbow
maybe it’s us riders who have a screw loose

reluctantly, I climb aboard
gripping the safety bar like it’s a trapeze
a better “safety bar” is the corner tavern
where we ought to be instead

too late to switch to the log flume now
let’s pray that the ride inspector
was sober when he got here
and that he brought his fine-tooth comb

hold on
here we goooooooooo!!!

Jeff Ryan is a writer living in New York City. His poetry is being featured in “Westward Quarterly”, “One Art”, “The Lake”, “the cherita”, and “Nuthouse” this summer.