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Apr 2015
Perhaps you don't know but I'm from-
San Diego!
Where the sun bursts in a sky of absolute blue
364 days a year
I mean, nothing's perfect
When you are born in good weather and chill attitudes
You can't help but be a beacon of happiness and optimism

So as soon as my mother struck the legs of my cradle
into the sand of sweet, sweet beach
Sun soaked into my hollow bones
Drumming laughter, laughter, laughter into my palms
And warmth lingers still on my deceptively pale skin

So that when a storm strengthens and the clouds rage and upset is on the brink
All I have to do is catch my reflection and see the yellow ring pressed around the pupils of my eyes
to know it'll all be fine
And maybe then some

Perhaps you don't know but I moved to San Francisco
to be alone
To shelter myself in all things books and tea and gorgeous grey
Here I revel in myself, in my own time
In the anonymity of fog and the beat of the city

I have logged countless thoughts on bus rides
-Like those on love and life and intelligence and how to grab the window seat away from the homeless man

Here I am alone
Not to say that I have no company but rather that I can seek seclusion with such ease and grace

Here I construct my mask
from pavement and street art
Wrap myself in my own blanket of fog
Who is she? Nobody can ask
Nobody can see me
Thank god, I can hide here


Perhaps you don't know that I dream of
Thailand
Of ripe, juicy mangoes that taste like life itself
Of bustle and confusion I can wipe off with my sweat
Of tastes my tongue has yet to meet and sounds my ear may just shrink from
but Thailand is a challenge
And so I dream of grasping dirt in my spidered hands, raising earth above my head and shouting
VICTORY

Perhaps you don't know that I dream of the world
Of smiles and laughter, Of seclusion and mystery, Of challenges and of mangoes
You see, I collect country facts like the social butterfly collects friends
I gobble them up and then spit some back out
And no matter the case
I know place is important
And that it's also not
but either way we all think one of two things
Where are my feet standing?
Where am I going next?
Amanda Chardonnay
Written by
Amanda Chardonnay  San Francisco
(San Francisco)   
  954
 
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