I ride this roller coaster-- up and down, twisting and turning, dangling legs far from solid ground and I want to scream with delight for the freedom but my heart is in my throat. The swirling sky below a breathless reminder that exhilaration and fear are so often entangled.
This funhouse swallows me whole-- my feet fight against a swaying floor painted with dizzying concentric circles, everything spiraling out of control. In the infinite mirrors, a thousand reflections-- all I am and all I could have been, all of my stories and all of my sins. The only escape through a maze of garish colors and blaring music and I wander in different directions before stumbling out the other side-- high on the ecstasy of finding and losing myself.
The cotton candy calls to me in its sugary pink voice, but it dissolves too quickly on my eager tongue the way joy so often does-- leaving me alone with a ghost of sweetness and a saccharin headache.
Flashing bright lights hypnotize, tempt me to play games I can never win for prizes that cost too much-- no matter my aim, the targets are always moving.
Soon, this will all be gone, nothing left but an empty lot-- ticket stubs and candy wrappers and memories and souls scattered on the wind.
Lisa Lerma Weber has a love/hate relationship with roller coasters. Her work has appeared in 3 Moon Magazine, Headline Poetry, Mineral Lit Mag, Silver Birch Press, and others. Follow her on Twitter @LisaLermaWeber.