this italicized paragraph is about my life: i applied for my visa on tuesday. it was approved on friday. and a merry christmas to your family. it is a visa that will let me go to new zealand for a year and work while i travel. i can earn money (though i intend to be paid in the blood of firstborn children, something about the exchange rate being more stable?) i am eligible for a three month extension on my working holiday visa when i am done because i am an agricultural worker. i am going to buy a plane ticket for november 2. this means i could stay until february of 2011, though i will probably have moved on by then. what an odd looking series of numbers. i am going to buy a plane ticket when i get the juevos together to sit down and hit send on the computer. i wish the process was more corporeal than the internet. i could really use some customer service. sometimes i like to think about the goodbyes i will have, and then i get shakey and cry in my head a little. especially when i think about my last iced latte in cal anderson park. it gets me every time.
everyone wants to know what i’m going to do when i get back, but i’m not coming back, i can’t even say twentyeleven out loud, so i am sticking to dreaming about other countries i’d like to visit when i am done. i think i might like to fly from new zealand to greece and farm and backpack in eastern europe. i envision sitting on some beach when i turn 24, huddled over a well used notebook overlooking impossibly blue water while wearing white. maybe i’ll eat fish tacos, and then i’ll head north. estonia sounds nice. also i already bought the lonely planet guide.
june is a good month
june is a good month.
june, here i am in yellow
bedecked in daisies
i am naked from the waist up
silver spoon implanted in an immovable pint of ice cream
in ice cream held steadfast under my salty chin in june.
licked with sweat and dust from dried up mud puddles
no rain in june, we are covered in strawberries and i am
staring at dripping, sweet calves
straining up hills instead of hibernating
asses bouncing step step step in peacoats and gortex
mittened and goosefleshed navigating iced over sidewalks
falling down the steps outside the grocery store.
june means my red bikini purchased
during some other june, delirious and tempestuous
strapped to my tits like tits in slings for fractured elbows or
pouches for baby kangaroos
two traffic stopping red lights
only in june would i put aside my endless
endless, gender trouble dialogue monologue
for two scraps of lycra in a hibiscus motif
a red bikini denouement
in june,
june, here i am
feverish, heading downhill
hands filled with stone fruit and towels
june, i have my spoon,
let us eat.
