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.