I want to mix a box of cookies in a sink of ice cream and eat it for dinner each night while I wash my feet in a tub of coconut water. I could afford it. I promise you. I want to call out of work ten minutes after I’m due and train hop my way to the Orient with only a bag of skittles to barter. I want friends I don’t have to call. I want a lover who doesn’t talk back. I’d like my water served me fresh from the sky and brought forth by a rain dance I don’t have to join. I wish I had great power but not great responsibility. I want to free climb but not fall. To go into space but not suffocate. It’s a binary system. Ones and zeroes. Yins and yangs. The Second Law of Thermodynamics. Entropy. Adulthood applies the illusion of order to a chaotic system. Pay my bills, go to work. Doctor appointments, credit checks. Brush my teeth for reasons other than inoffensive breath. It’s an unfamiliar landscape. As alien to me as house music at a club in Vegas. There’s a theory here somewhere. Anarchy. I doubt it’s sustainable. If the cookies don’t kill you before you give birth they’ll certainly do something untoward to your libido. So it’s a one and done proposition then? A Mars trip with no possibility for return. “The light that burns half as bright burns twice as long. And you have burned so very very brightly, Roy.” If that is the case, let’s go further. Why stop at Mars? Let’s burn till the engine fries and eat cookies the whole way down.
© 2013 Christopher Dart