.another again.

Big ass kid. Sleep like a baby. I wish french fries were on every menu, in every restaurant. I wish African-American students would lose the slave mentality. I wish they wouldn’t rush to sit in the back of the bus—or the back of the classroom. I want the Vietnamese people to offer me a mask when I sit down to get my nails done. There should be less liquor stores and more libraries. I need a room full of books. No, a house full of literature. There needs to be more fathers and less “baby daddy’s.” people need to have less sex and make more love. I need a maid. I dream of having dinner with Whitman, Morrison, Eliot, Hawthorne, and Hughes—being inspired by their energy, and nothing more. Still dream in black and white. Slow dance with my imagination. See endless possibilities in the ink pen. Love too hard. Too fast. Too much. Too little. Never enough. Afraid of the dark. Often times, afraid of the light. Mild-mannered. Hot-tempered. Happiness lies in the contours of…that face, that voice, that scent. Internal struggles. External predicaments. Know what I want. Losing focus. Wish I could live my life in alphabetical order. All the bad would be behind me. Proud of who I am. Wonder why no one else accepts my choices. Wish upon stars. Powerful. Orator—only in my bedroom mirror. Ordinary. Wish I could teach to the child and not to the test. Wish I didn’t have to sign in at work. Dream of becoming great. Content with being who I am. Although she wasn’t…….