disclaimer one

sometimes i will spontaneously compose an idea

i might ponder about mexico
a goat
and some fabulous metal-smithing
in a run-down studio
just beside our creaky home.

or

baby-catching in paris
a baguette
some to-die-for vintage
and
cigarettes. only to fit in, of course.

on particularly energetic days,
i may propose bali.

you will need to figure out which one is suitable
which one is worthy
which one has a shot.
and pull out the luggage
knowing that we will come back.
we will always come back.
it is your cross to bear.

sometimes i will want to sleep in.
for a very long time.
limbs tangled in a quilt
sheets long ago kicked out
disheveled on the hardwood floor

sometimes i will be up when the sun rises
i will make some tea
or finish lastnight's wine
and come back to bed
to sit beside you and watch the stirrings of morning time.

sometimes you will not hold my hand
and i will become completely insecure about my hand
wondering what could possibly be so wrong with it
and other times,
you will not hold my hand
and that will be perfectly fine.

sometimes i will curl up in your nook
with a great tale
and snuggle as i read.
i could do this all day.

sometimes my books
will be abandoned
alone with no eager fingers in sight.
in these times, i have lost interest
in the cliché of reading for pleasure
and will want other forms of pleasure.

you can decide what forms. you will like that job.

sometimes i will want ice cream.
copious amounts of icecream.
home made icecream, of course.
you will need to comply.
i take food seriously.
really seriously.
too many empty meals
will make me really cranky.
and i will sulk.
for approximately one day.

let's just make ice cream.


so
as you see
i'm difficult.
and a little on the verge of insane.
teetering on the edge of
a world of insecurities
and a world of strengths.

but i'm worth it.
i am so worth it.

eventually
my children will be sent off to school
wearing upcycled clothing
and a sticker on their lunchbox that
expresses their love for the environment

they will sit yogically
and eat odd vegan concoctions
and wonder
"what the hell is wrong with my mama*?"

and you will have no other choice
but to grin
a sly grin
and reply

"absolutely nothing"

can you do that?

* my children will have to call me mama. okay?