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