terminally wanderlust

Friday, September 08, 2006

27443

We are trapped
And catapulted
By who we are not, and
Who we should still be.
By whom we left in the back seat of a car,
Who we lost in a cold corner of the university library,
Who we forgot when the dress code changed yet again.

Did you know that once
I was an artist?
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.

I danced on the stage
I smiled at fear
I didn’t let what age had to say
Get in the way of progress
Of the crusade for social justice
Of art for the sake of beauty and love and creation.

As an artist,
It didn’t really make sense for me to listen to the voice that said,
What about when you have to pay the bills?
How will you ever get an apartment?
Don’t you think that there will be a time when you want a family
And a husband
And a dog and cat and John Deere lawn tractor and 401(k) and a closet full of made in Indonesia conformity?

Why did I say yes?
Is that what I really wanted?
Is it what I want now that I have it?

I want to ask
I want to go back
Talk with the artist in the back seat of the Escort
Parked in an abandoned cemetery, writing poems about the angst of love
And ask her:
What do you think about staring emptily at an Excel spreadsheet, sending random emails, and abusing the internet for the better portion of your paycheck?

I want to discuss
The benefits of my investment accounts and retirement planning
With the punk purple haired girl in ripped Levi’s and an old man’s wool sweater
Who fought with the optometrist for her cat’s-eye and rhinestone glasses

I yearn to check in with the woman
Who organized a peaceful demonstration
For the progress of Capri pants in the workplace
Right after she was swept into Human Resources
And put on notice for insubordination.

What would she say about the chinos and sweater sets
The Franklin Covey planner
About being 27443, or 21964499 before that?

Most of all,
I want to catapult
More than retreat

Tap-dance naked on the moonlit beach at the cabin
Steal vintage signs from condemned buildings
Sing out loud in the car when stuck in rush hour
Flirt with danger and greatness and oblivion and passion

And remember to remember that I am
an artist.
A princess
A lounge singer
An amazing
Intelligent
Beautiful
Confident
Diva.

2 Comments:

Blogger Diana said...

Amazing. And you stopped this writing, why?

Love you!

6:22 AM  
Blogger Donegal John said...

sounds like a mid-life crisis come early

4:26 PM  

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