i want to embody every girl.

i want to be a sunday school girl in the ‘60s, red ribbons in my hair, two neatly tied plaits the color of wheatfields, riding my bike down cobblestone streets, sunlight kissing my neck.

i want to be a tattooed punk rock worshipper, electric blue hair and ray-bans, fishnet stockings and the city a blur of entangled lights in the rear-view mirror of my motorcycle.

i want to be a venice girl who reads valentines for a living, rapunzel hair all soft sculptured ringlets, a pet blue bird and summer dresses in floral prints, long eyelashes and sowing glitter.

i want to be a french artist and revolutionist in the ‘90s, **** paintings and led lights, portraits out of beer cans and pencil shavings, a student of the fine arts falling in love again and again with the light and how it falls on the sidewalks & people’s faces & the trees.

i want to be this girl and that girl, a romanian princess in her 20’s, an old witch with a grisly past, a gypsy on the run, a victorian model, a historian with an appetite for gardening, an archaeologist who nicknames all her finds, a singer who grates her guitar on boulevards in italy and cafes in paris for the spare dime, an english man’s favorite daughter. i want to be a struggling ballet dancer with an emotional dependency on poetry, an astronaut who discovers a parallel universe, a noir film actress who smokes too much and has eyes like diamonds, a fortune teller, a vigilante, a musician. every girl’s soul whispers to me.