HELLO THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING
I was flying through a morphine haze to get somewhere good. That said, it's hard
to be too romantic when there's Zyklon B. My fault for listening to the Holocaust podcast
while eating spaghetti. It was momentum, both things were happening. I'm in the middle
of the prednisone doses and I'm steroid flying. I don't know what the ending to this movie
meant. I liked it a lot. Too much media, but I'm starting to process it like I was taught to—
feelings evoked instead of full understanding of plot. I've got the saving grace snacks
lined up. Why the movie about the toxic air and the podcast about the toxic gas the night
before the toxic meds that claim to be here to fly me through? How much they charge for
this shit is dystopian, dystopic. My fault for calling billing, like ignorance is Benadryl.
They say allergy but I'm unclear on how one can be more allergic to something designed
to kill parts of me off. The bad parts, they keep saying. Sure thing. What if I like the bad
parts? It's all spaghetti in there. I'm flying through the night in a drug haze like a parallel
self. I'm flying with a tiny bit of echolocation. You throw a sound from you out there
then you chase what comes back. That's what the movie was trying to say. I'm on board.
Cade Leebron lives in Columbus, OH. She holds an MFA from The Ohio State University, where she served as an editor at The Journal.
Her work has appeared in The Boiler, American Literary Review, Electric Literature, and elsewhere. She exists online at
and on Twitter, @CadeyLadey.