Carolyn Madeo

Small Disasters
We were left, suspended upside down, for what felt like hours.

The New Jersey of my childhood is a series of intricate, small disasters: misplaced steps, suffocated hermit crabs, yes— delicate embarrassment of sharing a bedroom with our family friend’s son. We are five to seven, no older. I watch as his mother places a bowl over his head, trims a careful unfashionable bob. Page boy, paper boy, amusement park adrenaline junkie.

Although I always favored the slower rides, those that simulated graceful, soaring flight (what I wouldn’t have done to leave my awkward, heavy, low lying body) he coursed me onto the roundabout. Earnestly we strapped ourselves into the blue wire cage. It was early morning— waves continued to recede, pizza ovens and popcorn machines chugged towards a festive readiness. The ride began and suddenly stopped.

Clubs &amp; Pubs

 * The Climax
 * The Reader
 * The Bookmaking Club
 * PASA
 * Mixed Heritage