Aug 09


I could tell you right now how a rollercoaster feels.

The feeling of the rickety wooden boards underneath your feet,
the screech of brakes as the cars comes to a stop.

The clanging of safety belts, harnesses
coming undone as their passengers get out.

"That was so cool!" one would say.
"Let's do it again!" Their friend would reply.

They'd laugh, leave the ride,
then come back to the line again.

Now it's your turn.

You clamber into the cart, sitting in the sloped seat,
one whose harness came over your head.

You sit next to your friend, your special somebody
as they, too, strap in.

A belt connects to the harness,
and an attendant comes 'round.

Everything's safe and sound.
The operators raise their thumbs-ups.

"Clear!" they say, one after another.
"Enjoy the ride," the main operator says.

You're not too sure whether or not they said anything, 
but you can't dwell on it as the cars begin to move.
You go forward, then turn. You start to go up.
You can hear talking in the back.

And then the drop.

You fall for what feels like forever.
Your stomach is doing the turns and flips you're so familiar with.

You can't even raise your arms above your head, 
not like the other passengers.

Your head comes forward, knocked against your collarbone,
as the cars keep following the track.

You go up.
Up again.

Around a little lake.

You're being jostled so much you wonder if you'll bruise (I did).

The last hills are easier.
Everyone's screaming.

The ride comes to a close as you near the boarding station,
and you wonder how it was really over that quickly.

"Did you like it?" Your friend asked, suddenly worried.
You're pale. Maybe it's just a headache?

"Yeah," you reply. The same word for the same question.

You two walk off the ride, 
looking up as you see the next cart of people
fly down the tracks.