Rae Theodore
Even cavemen wanted a bunch of random shit
Like bigger caves, faster feet,
a better way to say I love you
than a blow to the head.
Me? I want a million dollars.
No, make that three million dollars,
a new dishwasher, silver sneakers
all the books.
No matter how many cats I have,
I will always want one more.
I want to be 40 pounds lighter,
ten years younger.
I want wings
so I can reverse fly
around the earth like Superman
and turn back time.
People always say your mistakes
make you who you are,
but let’s be real,
that’s bullshit.
If you could erase your past
mistakes, you would be a shinier
version of yourself.
I want to sleep at night,
not worry so much,
dig deep, strike peace
somewhere inside.
I want this deck of famous female poet tarot cards
that’s too expensive to buy for myself.
I want to live in a shack
that has clouds for walls
and a stardust floor
so when I dance
my feet stumble
on new constellations.
I want more than I have.
My friend Linda says that’s the source
of all suffering,
wanting more, less or different,
but isn’t that what it means
to be human?
To want something
and then when we get it
to want for something more?
We are all unapologetic wanting
machines. Like cavemen who made bacon
when they craved crispier meat
and built rooftop patios
on top of their caves
so they could gaze at some other rock
they would rather call home.
a better way to say I love you
than a blow to the head.
Me? I want a million dollars.
No, make that three million dollars,
a new dishwasher, silver sneakers
all the books.
No matter how many cats I have,
I will always want one more.
I want to be 40 pounds lighter,
ten years younger.
I want wings
so I can reverse fly
around the earth like Superman
and turn back time.
People always say your mistakes
make you who you are,
but let’s be real,
that’s bullshit.
If you could erase your past
mistakes, you would be a shinier
version of yourself.
I want to sleep at night,
not worry so much,
dig deep, strike peace
somewhere inside.
I want this deck of famous female poet tarot cards
that’s too expensive to buy for myself.
I want to live in a shack
that has clouds for walls
and a stardust floor
so when I dance
my feet stumble
on new constellations.
I want more than I have.
My friend Linda says that’s the source
of all suffering,
wanting more, less or different,
but isn’t that what it means
to be human?
To want something
and then when we get it
to want for something more?
We are all unapologetic wanting
machines. Like cavemen who made bacon
when they craved crispier meat
and built rooftop patios
on top of their caves
so they could gaze at some other rock
they would rather call home.
Biography
Rae Theodore (she/they) is the author of My Mother Says Drums Are for Boys: True Stories for Gender Rebels and Leaving Normal: Adventures in Gender. Her stories and poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Reckon Review and Barren Magazine, and have been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Rae is the winner of the 2020 Joan Ramseyer Memorial Poetry Contest and past president of the Greater Philadelphia Chapter of the Women’s National Book Association. She lives with her wife and three impertinent cats in Royersford, Pennsylvania.
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