What I Want

August, 2017
 

If you ask me what I want it’s pain-free peace,

with a green-sea view, and also ice-cream.

I don’t care to read or sleep or dream.

I want to be, like a rock, full of particles

that hold their form in mysterious quantum ways,

while inside they move and bounce in comic skits.

Almost I can see that, like a neon sign flashing

D-A-N-C-E.


Once I owned a dress, it was red and white

polka dots with flounces, second hand of course.

But mine, you know?

I wore it to the dance and no-one asked

why polka dots, so out this year. My head so high.

Did you know polka dots can dance?


I wore gold sandals, wedgies, how we called them,

platforms now. Also out, I suppose, and why

choose gold to go with polka dots? Don’t know.

In seventh grade we learned domestic arts. I

sewed a blouse of green mid-summer leaves.

Never wore it, except for hiding in the grass.


Disguised I also hid in trees and valleys. Disguised

I walked on molded particles of wind and water;

the same, me and them. I like rocks, hard but frisky

lava particles compressed, or upset cliffs. Water

sooths them beside the sea on sand-beds. They fake
resting. Inside they’re all a-dance like candle flame.

​Also I like ice-cream with chocolate cake.