Nighttime scene. Popcorn machine painted red and yellow. Smells like salt and oil and everything that’s good with the world. Ferris wheel and the playful screams of children. A sharp ding and someone’s won a prize, changed their life, impressed their friends. Any anxiety I feel is swept away by the adrenaline of being alive, the sugar rush of cotton candy. Pink, puffy, unicorn clouds of pure sugar goodness because heaven is a place that knows no calories. Funhouse, distorted mirrors. Trash on the ground. Heart beats. It isn’t fair that I’ve had no one to hold my hand over the years. But I actually don’t mean that. Everything just actually is. And there’s no use in wishing. Pennies thrown backward in the Trevi Fountain. I’ll keep my money. Even if it is just change. Just change. But I won’t change. At least not deliberately; Meaning, I won’t step into straightjackets because someone told me to, or someone told me that’s how I should be, that’s how I should feel. I can’t do that. But I will change into dress or nice shirt if I like the way it looks on me myself. If it makes me feel good and powerful and nice and decent. Fairgrounds in the day time.
