“when she says it’s okay, because she likes roller coasters”

by Abbie Langmead

you don’t like roller coasters. not to gaslight,

but it’s like that scene in Sharkboy and Lavagirl

where the kids get stuck on that ride in Dreamland,

on loop. they went on willingly, at first, 

because they like roller coasters.

 

and after enough turns and drops and loops

they didn’t want to ride anymore. when i get like this,

i try to tell you, i become so afraid that you will realize

the ride is not stopping and wish for a young Taylor Lautner

to come and rescue you.

 

you say that won’t happen, but i know

because i have wanted off this ride but the operator

won’t hear me, or doesn’t care like you do, because

i am stuck on this ride and don’t you think

that i am tired of it too? i know you will be like me,

tired, and i don’t want you to get on the ride

 

because i know that you can get off of it again.

you can be damsel, but that means you can be saved.

 

no, i am not on this ride, twists and drops and hurling

over the edge. i’m the track. i know where this ride goes

over and over and over again. i get worn down by every car

that runs over me one day i’ll close down

because i’m just not safe enough to be operable.

the tourists will one day disappear, what remains is hollow metal.

 

i know, i’m so much fun when you can leave me.

CONTRIBUTOR’S STATEMENT:

I am emphatically not a film buff. That being said, I keep on finding myself in circles of cinephiles who have strong tastes and use words like “oeuvre” in common conversation. I love them, and I have found myself going to increasingly obscure foreign film screenings just to try to see the world the way they do.

When I went to an arts college known for its film program, I would tell other students that my favorite movie was “Sharkboy and Lavagirl” if they asked. If they condescended to me, I knew that wasn’t someone that I wanted in my life. If they accepted or engaged, even if their answer to the question was something pretentious that I’d never heard of, I knew that was somebody I wanted to keep around. I am someone who gives kindness and grace to everyone but myself. I’ve been really fortunate to have built a community of kind people, through silly litmus tests or moments of patheticness and insecurity.

I don’t recognize the person who wrote this poem now. The good people don’t leave just because you’re struggling. I have been abundantly lucky to find so many good people, in Boston, in Dublin, and now scattered across the globe. Since writing this poem, I’ve become a lot more trusting that love can stay.