I don’t want much:
I want to be happy.
I want to live forever.
I want to face no consequences. Ever.
That’s not much, is it?
I want to never live through another hot, humid day. Or a cold one.
I want it to rain when I want,
And be sunny and mild the rest of the time.
I want to chase Spring around the planet, skip
August, January, February and half of March.
I want a 5-series Beamer. Midnight blue. Just for Tuesdays.
The other days I’d like a Ferrari to drive down to my yacht.
Where I’d make love until dinner.
And then after.
I want to be 35 again, knowing what I know now.
(Not my 20s again. God, no. Everyone’s an idiot in their 20s.
No offense intended. But it’s true.)
I want to stop realizing that each day might be my last.
That one’s new. That’s the one that’s true. That’s the one I hate.
The other things are lies I tell myself.