Want

I want to lay face down on the grass.
I want to stop having miniature panic attacks.
I want to be financially comfortable.
I do not want to be rich.
I want to travel on a regular basis.
I want to ride the subway all day long.
I want to ride my bike all day long.
I want to fill the streets with sod and the lawns with prairie.
I want to speak all languages.
I want to have seven percent body fat.
I want to learn about something new every day.
I want to live in the city, on the top floor of an apartment building.
I want to live in the mountains by the ocean.
I want to have perfect pitch and a photographic memory.
I want to sleep in a hammock with a book on my face.
I want to touch sea anemones.
I want to make my own sourdough bread.
I do not want to go shopping.
I want an interesting job that takes four to seven hours a day.
I want to understand everyone.
I want to throw a party at which the guests dance until the morning sun rises up over the grocery store.
I want to dig for freedom.
I want to stay up all night in the back seat of a car, watching water drops inch their way past my eyes.
I want to break it down into its component parts, then reassemble them in a variety of ways.
I want to go sailing.
I want a glass of milk.

Bike Ride

The smell is the dry, dusty, sharp kind that hangs about under stands of red pines. It is localized. Just faintly reaching the trail when the stands are close enough for it to compete against the manure and river water and sunflowers. The sap must be boiling. Half a mile distant, the temperature gradient of the rising air causes undulations in light rays. The asphalt appears to be flowing. The sap fades abruptly and I am surrounded by a floral nectar. A rolling green and yellow.

This whole thing is nice because it unplugs my mind from the constant and rapidly changing stimulation it usually receives during leisure time. It is halfway between reflection and meditation, free flowing and cathartic. Alternating between issues, which eventually need to be addressed and transient concerns. A smell is not sharp. That has no meaning.