Golden Gate

Four rows on the carousel, like great-grandpa taught. Three isn’t enough. Two is asking for trouble. Not all horses, neither. You need the stag and bear, wolf, too. Zebras spy for horses, don’t be fooled.

Some joker said the old-fashioned carousels were too elaborate, but he meant too expensive. You pay up front, or you pay later. When the world spins and a child snags the gold ring, you’re safe. Horses don’t like that.

Down the pier, they forgot the rings, and kids slipped away, no bears or stags or wolves to protect them. The horses are still laughing.