Falling for you is like a zip line over Niagara

   
It was fucking pouring  
when I stepped up    
to the Niagara Falls zipline,    
200 feet in the air.  
   
But there was no lighting  
so the ride was open  
with a short,  
short line  
   
and I felt    
like flying    
   
The kid in braces    
locked my carabiners    
to the doo-hickey that would    
hopefully hold my wet ass    
in the air for the    
next 60 seconds  
and he told me to lean back  
into the harness  
and starfish  
   
Fuck? What? Say what?    
   
Yeah.    
Starfish.  
   
I held the    
harness gear    
like it was the last    
golden ticket at the    
chocolate factory,  
until my knuckles    
were almost blue  
   
I like to feel adrenaline but    
zooming toward the    
all powerful rush of water    
while rain pounded the platform    
had things puckering  
   
holding the gear gave    
me the illusion of safety.  
   
But the kid, who    
may have been    
old enough to drive,  
maybe,    
repeated it.  
   
Don’t hold on.  
   
Trust the gear.  
   
Let go.  
   
Spread your arms    
and legs out  
like a starfish  
   
or your harness will swing.  
   
   
Oh.  
   
Oh….  
   
   
OH!  
   
SHIT!  
   
My harness would swing  
like a pendulum in an    
nouveau-Poe nightmare    
   
With me in it.  
   
If I didn’t let go.  
   
Before I could    
evaluate my life choices  
the latch pulled    
and I starfished my    
happy ass in to the    
wind and rain.  
   
When the initial fear of  
imminent death    
dispelled a little,  
I laughed.  
   
Cold fat drops of rain pelted me    
as if I were the a    
Harry Potter motorcycle-riding    
giant in the clouds;  
soaking my skin  
stinging my eyes  
bringing something    
feral and delighted  
out to cheer    
the brevity of it all  
   
and I, too, became    
pure element  
   
Holding to nothing  
letting it go,  
letting it carry me  
to give the furies  
their tithe without a fight    
   
I fucking starfished in    
an existential orgasm    
existing for only a moment  
of airborne immortality    
while the sky wept    
at the beauty of    
this brief victory in    
all-time  
   
I landed laughing,  
alive,  
and thought of you  
   
(The metaphor makes itself.)  
   
The terror at our  
moment of truth,  
when we said…  
when we did…  
   
when my mind was a    
hurricane in winter,  
convinced I’d die    
with tears frozen  
on my cheeks if    
the safety cords fail  
on us    
is as vivid as    
looking at rapids  
in the rain
 from 200 feet up.  
   
I strapped in anyway.  
To you.  
To us.    
   
Trust the gear.  
Let go  
Open your arms and..  
   
I do.  
 

I let go into you,  
as wild and chaotic  
as terrifying and    
daredevil-esque  
as damn near anything    
I’ve ever done  
   
I let go even though  
I shouldn’t be on    
this fucking ride    
at this fucking time  
   
I let go and find  
my chaotic soul  
tempered in your touch,  
and I laugh    
filled with relief    
and survivor’s joy  
as you changed  
cold rain    
to steam  
on my body  
   
I let go    
and trust  
 
(you)  
   
the sky weeps    
for us  
in our beauty    
in our brief victory  
   
where I let go  
and learn    
to fly,  
learn  
to fall  
   
learn  
to love    
   
   
   
with you