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All we need is rest. These jumping days, screaming moments have run the ragged flags of our hearts into the ground. These cattle-prod calendars shoving us forward, through to the next named thirtysomething days collected in squares to cross off. All we need is perspective, a trip to the outer atmosphere so we can look down in timeless wonder and regret nothing but our lack of gravity. Sighing heavy, holding hands, all we need is a new plan, to plant a garden, eat some pie, fall asleep in the afternoon. All we need is a vacation, maybe. A dream journal so we remember the times we knew before we knew what would happen next. The haphazard weeks collected like old newspapers tied and bundled in a basement. No more wristwatch warnings, no more errant alarms. All we need is the smell of smoke, the feel of soft cloth dried outside on mothers’ clotheslines, cold lemonade, loud music. Or to change the channel, to ignore daylight savings time and sleep straight through the mayhem we’re causing by not showing up. Maybe we’ll get fired and then watch out! We’ll be spinning this globe for a new place to land, packing our bags, saying our goodbyes, locking the doors when we leave. All we need is courage, open hearts, lust for new adventures. Picture frames stand empty waiting for us.
