a hedgehog smaller than my foot, ancient meditations on behavior, self-control. i'd like to bike in nothing but my swim trunks and matching gloves, feel wind and sun and legs spinning, path spinning out beneath me. i'd like to be weirder, prouder. old-timey knickers and a torn scarf around my hair. shoes that cry for tramping.
(we need some more big laughing empty buildings and shattered glass, more quick-change shoulder blades and ladders to the stars. or the treetops. clamber up quick before the leaves start to fall and give us away.) side-splitting like thieves. whole gangs of them, sooty cheeks and sly fingers. rub-a-dub-dub and chilled to the bone. one day i'll learn to play all these songs i'm keeping hidden somewhere in the sinews of my wrists.
and what could be better than sun and skin and sky when i take all my clothes off and eat fresh figs by the river, fall asleep in the grass?
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