los subibajas rosa

they said the ones past the wall were evil.

they said they'd steal, or worse – they were different.

that no one laughs, or cries, or dreams out there.

that even light avoids their twisted sky.

I used to peer through slits too thin to see,

imagining their teeth, their hungry eyes.

but now I sit, the meta seat beneath,

and I feel the jolt – my body lifted high.

she's small like me. she wears a yellow shirt.

her shoes are pink. she smiles when I come down.

we do not speak, but still she waits for me,

and when I push, she rises like the sun.

they lied. her laugh is loud. her hands are warm.

she could be me, if I were born that side.