My thumb tastes like

My thumb tastes like
Bitter chalk
Like MDMA
Crushed sleeping pill on my bicuspid
Jamaican sauce from Bahia
So hot it stung like tiny glass pieces when I broke the bottle "pop"
As it fell from the fridge
And the glass bottle folded onto the floor
And I scooped it up with my hands from the tile
That was the spicy one, it had a crocheted top, it made the man swear
And couldn't believe I didn't cry
It was anise and smoked habanero and garlic, black skin in the sunshine, cool blue bay breeze and abandoned sky scrapers, cool cononuts below and yellow bobó. Drums.
My finger tastes like stinging eyes from late night screen thoughts
Ripped at the cuticle, dry, raw
Bitter chalk, like powdered blue gloves
Hot finger
Melatonin drops alcohol
The recorder of my future ambitions
Cool, clean blue cotton sheets.

Freedom

OK, gonna make it work. Gonna put things into action. This is the peak "single" phase of my life, where selfish whims are allowed or even constructive. I can't decide if this is totally boring or totally awesome. I just wish I had a million dollars and fourty vacation days and twenty career role models. Maybe in the meantime its ok to live on the edge- champagne, fresh fruits- spending all my cash on seeing mexico. It's either that or education, and if I go crazy without fear of commitment I can combine the two.

Early morning runs, aggressive new specializations in self-researched sectors. Is this the late twenties single dream? And when do I get to move home and play bball and lax again in some gorgeous yard?? Is this an absurd concept because it's gonna be Europe, or Africa, or California for Christmas? I'm like the liberal teacher who wears sparklers in her hair on the fourth of July. Or Mrs. Frizzle, who manages to bring a bus through blood veins, learns a thing or two about the heart, and in a twist of events wakes up back in a science classroom. I'm jealous of Mexicans all the time because they're showing me a new standard of living. Yet nothing would be more satisfying than somebody bringing me a pair of red basketball kicks, a jersey, an idea for a relevant community project, and the guts to be an entrepreneur, find some partners, flat out start pitching people stuff.

Meanwhile I keep seeking love or success handed to me as if enthusiasm is just rewarded like that. Nah, all you get is insomnia and a little bit of creative writing, OK and a Lotta coastline and tequila and lessons on how to be more socially intelligent (sometimes at odds with being rogue). So this is where freedom comes in. Freedom isn't about rights, it's about energy. It's a great ball of initiative, volition, tumbling like a bicycle down a newly paved road, bopping over fallen branches and old potholes cuz you have faith in that road. That's freedom. Being quick on your toes, awake little riding feet, not minding the strain in your neck. You grow up with it, its like riding a fucking bike. And you're alone.

Someone told me once one of the best things in the world was a bike gang. Up there with all your friends on a bike, not really caring where you are going (some vague destination), because you all have that energy . but what's sad about that nostalgic feeling? People drop off and if you wanna stay riding around there you are, just you and your bike and all the infrastructure to navigate. Weather. You, infrastructure, and the weather. Freedom sometimes feels like a Lotta work.

This is where I hide in my bed and write from 4-6am, inspired, then act grouchy the next day after my lunch coma. Or where I go get juices and flowers instead of pursuing community leaders, poets & politicians. I make friends with chefs and photographers because they make relaxing so damn enjoyable. Damnit, productivity feels cold and forced in the tropics. But there are a lot of opportunities everywhere around me to get my hands dirty. I gotta get better at asking questions and setting up small missions for myself. This is permanent study abroad. Gotta learn, right? Or can all this be through osmosis, drift? What else can I get away with, in peak singledom? What am I working towards anyway?