In the beginning, you wave a free ticket at Helios. It was scribbled with a galactic dialect written in perfect neon. But who were you to care?

It was ‘Free.’

With pounding marble heart, he nods at your expired passport and proceeds to spit a glob of

#FFC0CB onto the edge of your nationality.

The flight attendant approaches the line. She asks you to move into the cylindrical tube where

walls were laced with roaring, Windows errors. You find your seat and strap into strawberry champagne stains.

As gears run into the end of the sky, the plane projects kaleidoscope wings. Its radiance scribbles through your monotone eyes; fills lost hope with dreamscape.

Now, erase those clouds; they’re below the inboard flap. Watch void enclose you in the dialect of celestial chalk colours. Write your sunkiss on it to tone down saturation.

A worn-out, 80 bpm metronome. That’s your heartbeat during lavender-dipped turbulence. But learn to enjoy free amusement parks from the service trolley.

Learn to eject, spread your wings in an electric city.

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Richard Su is a Chinese-Canadian poet. His work has been featured in Ice Lolly Review, WORK-IN-PROGRESS, and has been awarded by Surrey Libraries.