We’re theme park people in my family,
You may go to museums or restaurants
Or visit cities like Paris and Madrid.
But we love the thrill of the parks where people will pay
To scream til they cry and spin til they’re sick.
We love the rumble of coasters like jets
Circling the skies and calling our names,
And we hanker for stalls selling hot dogs and coke
That fizz in our bellies as we whirl round and round.
But I have a favourite that sits in far reaches
Of parks in the woods, barely featured on maps,
In houses filled with cobwebs, surrounded by tombstones.
It’s the haunted homes that pull me in
To ghoul filled ballrooms and basements stacked
With coffins and women wailing for their long lost loves.
These are the places that will incite intrigue
More than any corkscrew or loop the loop,
The ghost train through the haunted house
Will always hold a place in this pitch black heart.