Thursday, March 11, 2010

Pack My Suitcase



I want to walk down narrow London lanes. Drink Heineken in Holland. Train to Edinburgh. Get drunk in Dublin. Order mozzarella pizza in Sicily. Photograph children dangling from German jungle-gyms. Photograph fiddling buskers playing the desolate streets of Denmark. Photograph groups of giggling girlfriends holding hands in Japan. I want to drink red wine and chew on cheese and bread, while a Venetian native steers me down a slender, green canal in a long, black gondola. I want to write about miscommunications; missed flights; lost baggage and the fast-talking French waiters I fear. I want to dance to Polish music after a plate of sausage and sauerkraut. I want to picnic in New Zealand; order a cappuccino in Milan; gape at beautiful Bulgarian ballerinas; roam Rome's Colosseum, wander to Norway, prance through Prague...

This is what I have for daydreams on my rainy day off: a life of fearless travel where I have money like a candy store has colorful corn syrup.

at

1 comment:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

The Darkest Eggs

Infinite light - it hums within all things. Even the darkest eggs eventually crack, spilling white and yellow. So when you meet or confront ...

  • Cunnilingus
    She pulls her index and middle fingers to her mouth and sticks her tongue between them.  "What does this mean?"  Mom asks, frighte...
  • Shrewdness
    I am the introvert hostess hiding inside her bathroom. G uests arrive to my writings on the wall, to platters of awkward tension and to ...
  • Happy
    She held a box of crackers and a couple of other things in her hands, which I cannot remember now. And as her three items went beep, beep...