We Are People Here. We Are Not Numbers

In the infancy of our relationship When we were almost exclusively hanging out Together with friends Cathy and I went to St. John's Applefest It was held every fall in the parking lot of the Catholic church I had attended as a youth Converting the quarter-mile of parish grounds into a second-rate carnival Full of cheap thrills and poorly-maintained rides We meandered through the crowds Like tourists Eventually ending up at the pirate ship at the far end of the fair A mechanical boat that rose into the sky Then swooped back down in the other direction like a swallow diving for insects Cathy was nervous and began to fidget, refusing to get in line Before our friends and I talked her into going When the ride started Any romantic idea I had of holding hands or an embrace Was quickly abandoned when I saw the white-knuckled grip on the safety rail Like she feared for her life