I Want

March 23, 2009
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I want to drink somebody else’s sunrise-
See the sky over their hometown and call it my own.
I want to bathe in their rainstorms and wash away the desert sands that give me away.
I want my mail to arrive at a Seattle address while I’m in California, or Australia, or Greece.
I want to sip my hot chocolate in cafés I can’t pronounce while I read a book that makes me look cultured and intelligent.
I want to send postcards and letters that are hard to follow- I’m here, I’m there, now I’m spending the night in Spain.
I want to get sore muscles from dancing all night in a club that plays music I don’t know the words to.
I want to taste the salt from all the seven seas and walk through sands that would ruin my pedicure if I ever stopped to get one.
I want my skin to sunburn on exotic islands while I suck the juices from strange foreign fruits off my fingers.
I want to wake each morning with no plans and just wander where my feet take me.
I want to have my portrait painted by a starving artist in Paris- I’ll give him more than he charges because he’s far too humble.
I want to trip over the unfamiliar languages and say something terribly insulting to an overly sensitive native, and I’ll smile as a storm of curse words I can’t understand spews out at me.
I want to be a gypsy, a nomad- I want to collect stories and scars and snapshot memories.
I want to run- be free- live by my rules or no rules at all.
I want to experience good things and bad things, scary things and silly things.
I want to live- live beautifully, live wastefully- live JUICY.





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