Too early for all this

On the bus listening to the new Modest Mouse and so, so happy. I love a new album from a favorite band, book from favorite author, movie from favorite director. I listen with my heart outsized in my chest and I want to paint huge canvases filled with flowers and tiny horses and the kind of details that restore people’s faith in goodness. I can’t paint so I think I will write a poem about a specific upper lip. I want to say aloud the word “balalaika”, whisper to myself the word “wasps”, just for the sensual pleasure of their utterance. I want to learn to play the autoharp, banjo and squeezebox – to be the singer of countrified sea-shanties. I want to act on my urge to get a tiny tattoo of an anchor at the base of the thumb on my right hand. All this before 9:00 AM.