GUESS WHAT: I WANT TO LIVE

my parents were impressed when i was
a cashier at chipotle because they had never
seen me willingly interact with strangers. 
i was 21+ years old when i had that job. 
they were like, “wow, honey!” 
when they stopped in for burritos
in their motorcycle gear. 
i was getting paid to do that. 

afterwards i moved, 
got drunk all the time, 
and met a few people.  
they were sometimes shitty, 
and i was sometimes shitty, 
and after i wailed aloud
and threw myself to the floor
during the making of eggs,  
i moved again.  

now i’m 29. in my free time
i am trying to meet hundreds of people on purpose.
i would like to (rather) be watching
movies and reading books in the sunshine. 
i do that, but i also listen and talk to  
hundreds of people. it is difficult.  

when i watch videos of my niece, 
guess what: i want to live. 
sometimes a kid will bruise my tender inner
arm skin, sometimes he will pull out my hair. 
but he laughed when the stormy wind came up, 
and that was what i was also doing behind my face, 
and i wanted to live then, and i want to live now.