Every decision I make affects everybody else in my life
I don’t want that responsibility
My dissatisfaction with this monotony is rife
I want to be selfish, indulge myself in me
I want to drive North until my car runs out of gas
Then stop and find a place to live
Spend three days on the couch sitting on my ass
Depressed, withdrawn, and plaintive
Take some psychedelic drugs for a different kind of trip
Then have a party, drink until I puke
Buy a black light, some red rubber pants, and a bullwhip
To convince my neighbors I’m a kook
I want to loose a hundred pounds and pierce my navel
Then show it to strangers on the street
Or flash my titties to the truckers; I’m not bashful
And have quick, sweaty sex in the back seat
I want to join a heavy metal band and be the official groupie
Maybe hop on stage and sing a song
Find myself a lawsuit so I can bicker with Judge Judy
Call the psychic hotline to tell them that they’re wrong
I want to buy a ’67 Camaro and restore it all myself
Live for weeks with grease under my nails
Display the original hood ornament as a memento on my shelf
Race a cop and spend the night in jail
High dive, sky dive, test drive, nosedive, and survive
Bungee jump, dry hump, ignore the speed bump
I want to take pleasure in the conviction of being alive
Instead of existing in an emotional slump
But instead I do the dishes, wash, dry, and fold the clothes
Take care of my family
Ignore my whimsical desires, the origin of my throes
Because that’s my responsibility
June 19, 2001
Copyright © 2001 Paula G. Cook