Once upon a time…
I wanted to be an author. A great American writer. First, it was a poet. Then it was a novelist. At one point I wanted to be both. But then I stopped reading and somehow with that stopped writing as well. Every time I try to pick up a book now, I feel too ancy to get through it. It’s not as easy to visualize the scenes anymore. So when I decide I actually do want to read (i.e. ten hour train rides to penn station) I read the same novels that once inspired me before. Hm. Anyway, I stumbled upon this poem I wrote my friend Laura many moons ago. It’s amazing how we can write things and look back and feel that whomever it was to have written THAT isn’t even remotely who YOU are anymore in many ways.Whomever I was when I wrote this, I must’ve been pretty darn cute, haha. Probably inspired by Dr. Seuss, the Motorcycle Diaries, and my neverending itch to see new things…
I can’t sit still!
Explore, I will.
But where to begin?
I haven’t a single quarter in a can of tin.
I want to live like Che pre governmental affairs.
I don’t care if I face lions, alligators, tigers, or bears.
I’m restless and ready to see all I can see.
Time is ticking away, will you come sometime soon with me?
