County Fair

County Fair

You caught me when I wasn’t looking,
spilling grease all over may favorite blue jeans,
working back of the house again,
emptying the grease pan again,
and remembering when I used to do it as a living.

But county fairs are different, with concessions
and confections
sold by county commissioners and the little
church uptown.

Across from the main food booth where
two teen girls, a shiny ginger and a braided brown,
wait on the ageless same ones who sit on the benches
year after year; across the asphalt are two
black and white calves that could pass for
overgrown kittens. Most think they are cute,
although one freshman says she hates cows.

French fries and apple pie, milk shakes and blue ribbon cakes,
the County Fair Queen, dressed in silver, sells raffle tickets
for a dollar. I think she is happy to be there, but would
prefer another wardrobe, rather than wearing the only prom dress
on the midway.

We don’t call it the midway, though, at this tiny fair,
there is one way, up and down, front and back,
and you only have to mention you work at the food booth;
the ticket takers nod and smile, you work your shift and
spend a half hour at exhibits. No one showed pigs this year.

I go for food and music. There is always music. Yesterday,
a single man with a blond ukulele sat onstage singing children’s
tunes,
and did not run out for most of the afternoon.
Today it was blues by a quartet, with great lead licks
behind, ahead, and between each lyric. And I sat
on four or five different benches chatting while
I chewed pancakes for lunch, with more people than
I have talked to in a month of days.

It was cloudy today, the last day, and no one needed
to shade their eyes. We met face to face and smiled
the weekend when we invite the world over
to our county’s little home.