One day when I get money I will buy a few things,
like a framed print of the Himalayas to hang prominently and plain.
Every time I see a mountain I feel small. As I am every day but I
forget like people’s names.
I need you like I need a pot of decaf to make me feel at home.
Like I need 25 hours to make a day. I see you like an
ant crawling through the hair on your arm; like I am crawling
through a field of wheat
to find a treat.
One day when I get money I will buy a house to put you in.
The doors will open silently and the walls will not be thin,
but thick enough to keep us warm and thick enough to stand your
kicks against them in the dark. There will be a room for books that
we will try to read. You and me.
One day when I get money I will not work at all. I will serve the plans
of perfection and hope any way I can. I will be as I am now but only more.
Until then I will think and act as if I am. And I will be. Independent of want or plenty.
I know few better ways to be free.
