The first time you flew in a plane was when your parents took you to Disney and it was so foggy when you touched down in Orlando, you thought the entire city was suspended in air, that Disney was in the clouds, because you’d been to other places, but by car, so you understood those places as car places, but Disney, Dad said, we’d have to take a plane, and that meant it was a plane place, a cloud place, and every day of the five days you were there, you couldn’t believe how big it was, this cartoon come to life in the sky, this miracle made just for you, but as big as it was, there was an edge out there somewhere, a line that if crossed, you’d simply fall off and in the same amusement park, thirty or so years later, you’ll wait for your girlfriend to finish the half marathon she’s running dressed like the Little Mermaid, the event for which you had purchased an overpriced Prince Eric costume online and when she gets through the chute, you had previously planned to make a clearing in the crowd and get down on one knee, but back in January she kicked you out of the house and even though she took you back after a couple weeks, it really feels like the other shoe could still drop, so you return the ring and throw away the costume and instead of proposing, you hug her sweaty body and tell her you’re proud of her and buy her champagne and say that you’re sorry and will be so, so careful you don’t fall off the edge again.
Kyle Seibel is a writer in Santa Barbara, CA. His debut collection, HEY YOU ASSHOLES, will be published by Bear Creek Press in 2023. His tweets, which mostly suck, can be found @kylerseibel.
Photography by: Priscilla Du Preez