Inedible Cotton Candy

Brittle and bare trees sway back and forth. I hear the whisper in the whisk of the wind as it dances on the edges of my ears when the sliding door slams shut behind me. The shattering force of the wind caresses the back of my neck as I swerve on a sharp corner of this deserted, twisted alley. I think about how much strength it took to divide the wet cement into broken holes. These bent corners of cement are like the edges of my heart that want to scream sadness into the rainbow-like sky above me. The sky is so bright and bubbly; two characteristics that I want to obtain. It evokes my undivided attention towards the highway, passing by the florescent-lit Chevron where my body shivers as the wind hits me harder. Traffic here is always insane; a car almost hits me despite knowing the crosswalk sign is on. The rush of the cars makes my once-numbed face feel again as if a nurse is putting numbing cream onto your skin before she inserts the IV into your warm-blooded skin. Cars on the highway seem to echo the sound of the screams in my mind. All I do is wait for something better rather than just managed to exist. I turn on Nanaimo Street, now entering my favourite place; Trout Lake, a neighbourhood where I wish I spent my entire childhood. I spot puddles from the previous day’s storm and shudder at my reflection. One or two dogs pull their owner in my direction which leaves them confused at first. They nod at me as I direct my attention to their precious dog. Soon after the owners pull their dogs away, my mind goes back to the puddles in strange places. There must have been a sad soul crying from above as the once distraught sky looks like cotton candy. The green, dirty tires of this old wheelchair are going over bumps as if I am on a roller coaster. I wonder if I could ever be high enough in the clouds just to be. Perhaps the sky tastes like cotton candy. I wouldn’t mind that.