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October 2016, vol 12 no 3

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Alexis Rotella

Flying High

I love when people watch me fly. There has to be a chandelier with crystals for some strange reason. At first I can only get a few inches off the ground, skimming the carpet, but still people think it's a big deal. I tell them they can do it too if only they'd believe. I also have to tell myself I can do it because if I believe I can't, my silver shoes won't lift me and I'll be stuck with everyone else at the party by the champagne fountain and that's no way to get high that really counts.

I invite the guests to join me, but they just stand there with their teeth in their mouths and I must say their teeth are so white they hurt my eyes when I look at them for long. Anyway, here I am up at the chandelier and I see whoever was up here before me had a feather duster. You can do it, I yell down to the guests, just stop thinking you can't and you will. But I grow weary of convincing others that they have the power to get high without drinking bubbles. Next I'm going to think about flying out the window to see what's going on around town. Maybe I'll meet someone else who believes.

through a tear
in the soji screen
the Milky Way