I’d want to learn to surf,
and dance among the waves;
I’d jump out of a plane,
feel just for one meager minute
the thrilling heartbeat of flight.
There are just so many things
I want to do before I die.
I want to get a big brown puppy,
learn to play an instrument,
maybe get an actual fat little elephant
with gray baggy saggy skin;
there’s just so much out there to achieve.
Should I go get a tattoo?
Nah, too painful, don’t want it.
Learning Danish seems fun,
and who wouldn’t willingly want
to build a complicated machine
that only does one simple thing?
It’d just go on, and on, and on…
‘til finally the machine cut the string.
I’d love to crash a party,
so to India I’d go,
where the parties are simple affairs,
and the guest lists aren’t all that long.
Backpacking through Europe would be a dream,
Denmark, France, England, Germany, Italy,
anywhere and everywhere I could go, I would.
But the number one thing I’d like to do
before I check out of life?
Spend so much time with my family
that they become sick of me.