There may just be a Disney dance, where staff
at thrill attractions have to switch their place
so when each rider exits, as the laugh
or gasp releases, there’s a different face
to monitor the trade. Does that make fun
for employees? Or is it more control?
For we were welcomed on each ride by one
and, leaving, saw another had the role.

That choreography is multi-tiered:
concentric revolutions silhouette
the symmetry that someone now dead dreamed –
or so in swirls of industry appeared
the park to us: like clockwork infinite
in scope, escapements of the people gleamed.