I want to be the kind of woman who

...wears this kind of boots

on a long lean body.

I want to have tattoos on my arms,

sharp glasses on a boyish face.

I want to be someone who turns heads,

twists the belly of the belly.

Dark skinned confidence.

I want to be the kind of woman

who rides an orange scooter,

with a worn backpack slung over her back

down a street lined with weeping oaks.

Home to another who is waiting,

twitching in a rolled armed chair,

listening for the whine of the bike.

And as soon as the front light sweeps

a dull white dot through the living room curtains,

jumps up and opens the door,

saying hello, hello, hello with her lips,

while never speaking a word.