leaving soon and i'm the
vagabond gypsy queen.
sometimes the itch to leave is just
stronger than the desire to stay.
(sometimes the desire to stay is
stronger than the itch to leave)
but i was born this way and this is
how it will always go.
enormous parts of me are sad but
there are parts of me that are happy too.
and every time i get down i think of
the february i took my backpack to
france; alone. and this time
i want to bring my copy of tom sawyer
and pretend i'm becky or tom and eat
apples in the dirt among the redwoods.
string up lights and put on a play.
put leaves in my hair and thermals
underneath and put my feet in the water.
and getting domestic with aprons and food.
no matter where you are, you'll always
miss something. because i miss steph and
ryan and the boulangerie and esther at
the clinic. and in eureka i will miss brit
and mack and all my loves and my love.
and i'll miss the porch and large jugs'o'wine,
and dixon and oh, how i'll miss your face, dear.
i keep saying it all day long, i will be brave.
for my lionheart is underneath all my
softness and raggedy ann face. brown tights,
short dresses, long hair and a mailbox. the
corner street, our bad neighborhood. smiles
and distance. fences, europe, loneliness,
weather, fragile, hugs and cigarettes. these are
the things i think of.