i grew up in the high desert under a bowl of stars

My grandfather was an atmospheric physicist, and my earliest memories are of studying the night sky, counting stars with him. I practice falling in love every day. I believe in magic. I dig hi-fives, game night, indie bands. Old folks stories, soft light, the weight of pomegranates, bare feet in alpine lakes. Black cats, silly socks, chai tea, hula-hoops. Making up words where language is limited. Dessert for dinner, vinyl, snail mail. I want to stomp grapes for wine, weave hammocks, fold pinwheels. I'm afraid I won't try enough things, or that I will try and you'll laugh. I don't understand war, algebra, or why we pretend so much at who we are. I love sunrise paddle boarding, rye whiskey, shavasana. I like saying “twine,” “cricket,” and “Bangladesh” aloud for fun. I've watched the sunset in 18 countries. Since we spend 1/3 of our lives sleeping, I wonder how much time we spend opening doors. I love fingertips with black cherry stains, sleeping under stars, and the shape of my bellybutton. I hate that I easily blush, that I can't spell, that I tell silly stories. When I grow up, I want to be a poem.

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