Sunday, September 19, 2004

The Magic of Red Leaves and Apples

Sometimes I like to wear shirts that have words and sayings written on them. Some have purpose, a certain message I want to share. Others are not supposed to mean anything to anyone else. They're supposed to be just for me, because I like them. I like the way they look, the way they feel; and sometimes the words are faded against the tank or the tee. And then it's almost as if they're secret words written on there just for me. It so happens that one shirt in particular seems to draw people to it whenever I wear it. They'll ask me what it says then read aloud I woke up wanting to go to Italy, and I find myself standing there, smiling awkwardly, while they squint at the faded words on my chest. Sometimes they'll pull away, look at me expectantly for an explanation of some sort. Sometimes they ask, "So you want to go to Italy?"

I've decided that I should memorize the words on that one particular shirt that seems to fascinate those I meet. When they ask me what it says, I can recite it to them so they won't have to strain their eyes and stretch their necks to read the words. Today was just one of those days. I woke up wanting to go to Italy by car. How appropriate.

Today was just one of those days.
I woke up wanting
to go to Italy by car.
Perhaps if I really drove fast enough I might
catch air to Florence.
Sometimes I forget about the magic.
like the moon and red leaves and how
the apples grow again and again
outside my windows.
And dream my funny possibilities
and brave endings.

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