i want

and that’s okay.

to behave

to learn

to wash

they teach, never to want.

i remember

a girl running in the park

only paper taped to a stick,

but her smile, something like;

a poor man winning the lottery

a musicians first time on stage

winning an academy award, while remembering your time jumping from couch to couch, eating scraps and wearing your sister’s husbands four year old shirt with a hole in the right shoulder – wearing your graduation suit, your parents last gift to you, two sizes too big, to every audition, to every job interview, to every date.

her smile, like nothing in this world, could make her happier- i want

that