First 'real' post...

This was done at Moniack Mhor but never made the anthology, and is slightly different from the version we read after one of Alan's exercises...anyt suggestions on how to improve it?

If You Are Not As Tall As Me You Cannot Ride This Ride

Where I come from, they say the sun
is cracking the flags, but most today
are cracked already. Municipal funds
are ploughed into the pleasure of this place,
the park attendants all have NVQs,
but cannot stop the sun from sprinkling
on our queue, a crocodile of kids in line
for thrills and spills, or so the advert says.
In truth, the roller coaster fails
to do much more than hurt the eyes.

The Great Alberto has turned up today
to stage a happening, a daring stunt.
He only knows his life has lead to this,
a tightrope walk, his final masterpiece,
the single act to prove that he is someone,
that means he can retire and not lose face.
Officials dart like wasps, to no effect,
as ambulances gather on the shore.
I glance at you. I know you're not impressed
with this delay. What does he have to do that for?

He's crying as as they haul him to the van,
not with shame but triumph in his eyes.
He's gone, but his redemption is complete,
his life a perfect parabolic curve.
We'll keep our place, although the queueing time
from here is longer than we really have.