sliders

standing on top of the world. lift the goggles for an instant and the blinding white is too much to bear. Back down goes the shield. you breath once, maybe a few more times ( just for good measure). behind you is tame, the known, the conquered. half on, half off. the precipice stands in front. you grip these metal sticks like their very presence is the only thing preserving your sanity. Another breath ( just for good measure). You push off with your metal sanity. the wind begins to slowly building just like your flight. its not a natural thing to fly but that is why you do it. Who wants to be natural. Sliding you remember your mom. you remember that slide in that particular fast food restaurant that your mom would begrudgingly let you enter. you remember that smell? that sticky slowness and that long squeaking sound of the exposed skin on your slower back as you stickily slide down. reality comes rushing back with that whipping wind. your mind is not in control it is all body. your effort is great but your is greater. you slide yes; but first you fly.