I have the attention span of a gnat. My mind flips from topic to topic, thing to thing with lightening speed. I’m easily distracted. Easy to entertain. The vacant look in my eyes probably means I’m ignoring you. My hair looks fabulous today. Don’t you think? Who are all these people walking by, alive at the same time as me? The picket fence across the street looks like it’s made of licorice. I wonder what the cat is doing. Why does caffeine do this to me? I have natural rhythm. I love to tap dance. Smooth bossa nova beats are falling like raindrops around me. Hitting the floor with the sound of a wisk broom gliding over a snare drum. My stomach is growling for no good reason. Will I ever match who I think I am? The most beautiful woman I have ever seen in person thinks she has a pin head. What would I trade to be able to fly? What would she trade? Is this really that bad? I sold almost all my books. Losing proof of my intellect became more attractive then lugging them around. Nothing left to say how smart I am other than me. How smart am I? Is this a game? A race? Can I take my ball and go home now? I wonder what my favorite song would be had I heard every song. The strongest M&M should be used for breeding purposes. Does anyone eat Hostess Fruit Pies anymore? Why doesn’t the FDA demand that fruit pie be in quotes? I want to play a vicious game of Scrabble. I want motorcycle boots. I have a thousand ideas for a-line skirts. And paintings. And collages. And dioramas. Evil bands of pixies who steal baby limbs and hide them in flower blossoms. The aftermath of a wedding gone wrong. Pink polka dots. Stripes. Patterns. Men’s ties on the bias. Half and half is not good on cereal. Joyce has bats in her belfry. Louise always runs. Will the house fit the three of us? Will the three of us fit the house? I love screen prints. Graphic. Colorful. The simple ones are best. The ones with words are best. I’m going to the art sale today. Picking over the picked over. I want to play an instrument. I want to sing. I want to sing like a bird. I want to roller skate and drink eggnog. Like Christmas break when I was 12. All my childhood memories are in golden hazy colored Kodacrome. I came across letters when I cleaned the basement. Wonder where Jack is. Wonder where Andrew is. Wonder where Dave is. Of the three, Andrew is the one I wonder about most. Brilliant. Boyish charm. Brontosaurus. Boisterous. Bang bang. Beveled. Beehive. Burdon. Bluelight. Brain crazy. Bigger than life. Bubblegum pink. Bam do bloop goo ja ja goo. Bursting.
3 comments:
i love your blog. Why have I not read of you until now? You have lovely splash-and-pling thoughts, and I agree with many of them. Keep the pigtails, always.
That's good stuff, Haiku Gal. I especially like the one about the songs. Thankfully, I know what my favorite song is without having heard them all.
Boy Named Sue - Johnny Cash
Yeah, he didn't write it, but he brought something to it that's undeniable.
'...the mud, and the blood and the booze...'
"I want to roller skate and drink eggnog"... fantastic. Sounds like great fun, especially if you're going to try and do both at once, which could get very messy around tight corners so don't forget to wear your giant economy-size plastic sheeting.
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