If I Had My Way
Live from The Center 10/20/24
It’s true that I’m insatiable. If I had my way, I’d swallow all the stars, taste each pipe dream stored in every galaxy, and still make room for crème brûlée, just to linger a bit longer, clinking silver spoons.
You wonder why nobody can stay in the Garden of Eden? They’re insatiable too. I’ll tell you what's more thrilling than letting the sun bleach your mind and bask you bored: It's intellectual stimulation! Scribbling in my margins, people-watching on the train, performing in the bar, throbbing in my brain. When the garden gets dark, you’ll wanna go looking for trouble, feel it bewitch your hips, then postulate the evening away.
If I had my way, we’d all be voracious with our vocabularies. We’d unpack all our adjectives, allow their auras to emanate and complicate the matters at hand. And any naysaying degenerate who won’t dare try to express the inexpressable, who attempts to quell our indulgence, and edit down our flamboyance, would be penalized for apathy, and prescribed LSD and a dictionary. For “nice” would be the supreme currency, but should never be used in a sentence.
If I had my way, brevity would be unnecessary when we’re shattering every wrist watch in town to build mosaic tables. Because we have enough time to outpour before we revise. You could change your mind. You could change it twice. I would still trust you, despite the contradictions.
And I know, I know, I’m totally insatiable, but If I had my way I’d have 7 boyfriends, one for every day of the week. Account for all my evolutions that transpire in days between. I would say it’s okay to maintain a devout relationship with the lover in your dreams, to wake up going down on the glow that stains your sheets, thrashing, laughing, and nestling in want.
All I’ve ever wanted is to capture that contracting breathe that flies past fast, when you’re on the swing-set or yearning for someone, bad, that renders the atmosphere miraculous, and I hope I never can.
