I'm a thinker, a talker, a writer, an ingenue day to day. I don't brush my hair. I don't bite my nails. I can paint a picture. I can take a picture. I sing in the car. I sing in the shower. I lend thoughts on paper napkins. I wear clothes off the bedroom floor. I'm a fighter, a lover, a damn fine kisser. I draw on foggy windows. I'd rather be hot than cold. I'll look you in the eye. I'm a messy cook. I don't wear a watch. I forget birthdays, anniversaries, to watch my mouth. I'm a seeker, a finder. I'm a thief. I'm patient. I push. They say I smoke too much. They say a lot. He once called me lovely, she once called me a liar. I stay up late. I knit. I dig vinyl records, 24 hour laundrymats, good wine, cheap beer, great beer, paper lanterns, brick streets, every shade of green. I sleep late. I don't make the bed. I remember the fabric softener. I hang my laundry to dry. I'm in love with a man who sings me songs. Who feeds the dogs. Who cooks me fried zucchini and speaks softly. What I said I meant. I'd rather be lucky than good. I prefer bare feet. I make mistakes. I make big mistakes. I prefer good sheets, my marshmallows burnt, the scenic route, whiskey with my water, rainy days, homemade gifts. My pockets are empty. Life is full.
