Funhouse Lights

When I was a kid in California, there was this building that had a sign: A to Z printing press. I never knew if the place was still running.

There was this carnival that would come in, a small one that fit right in the A2Z parking lot.

A parking lot, behind and between
When the funhouse lights blink blue
A childhood memory, I can see
when the lights take ultraviolet sheen
and call in a child like me
To play in the violaceous hue
in a parking lot, betwixt and unseen
Where the mirrors all gleam blue

The End

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