Gallimaufry

a messy poem.

One day I want to drown in Pinterest recipes and YouTube tutorials.
Read my kids the story of the little engine that could.
Tell my husband I love him before bed and that I love him more the next morning.
Visit my mother on Sunday’s but not without a trip to Baskin Robbins first.

Chocolate and chocolate chip.
You got it, mom.

And one day I want to live in another state.
Get my PhD.
Write my first novel.
Film my first movie.
Then my second.
Then my third.
Then my—

Well, you get the picture.
The motion picture.
See what I did ther—never mind, you know what I mean.

I also want a dog.
Or dogs.
A Pug named Rufus.
A Corgi named Tanner.
A Frenchie named Archie.
A Dalmatian named Dot.
An Austrailian Shepard named Auggie.
A Basset Hound named Doug.
Or Curtis.
Bruce?
Eh, I’ve got time.
Honestly, I don’t care what dog it is, I just want a dog.

And kids.
No more than three, I know the struggle I’d face financially and I want to live comfortably.
January babies, mark my words.
Brown hair, blue eyes.
Brown hair, brown eyes.
And of course, a blondie at heart.
Kidding.
Whoever they are, I’m going to love them anyway.

And my husband.
You wear the pants so I can wear the silk.
That’s the only way this is going to work.
Requests? Love me forever.
Hold my hand.
Kiss my forehead.
Tell me you love me before bed and that you love me more the next morning.
On days when you don’t know what to do, ask my mother. She seems to know a few things.
Also, do the laundry. I never learned.
But don’t teach me, you do it better anyway.
I’ll do the dishes and everything else.
Promise.

One day I want to drown in Pinterest recipes and YouTube tutorials.
Grow old but never croak.
Dance down the aisles of a grocery store to embarrass my kids.
Sing off pitch and write poetry under the moon-lit sky.
Read classic novels like The Catcher in the Rye.
Rage, rage against the dying of light.
I will not go gentle into that good night.

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