One banjo because it is what happy sounds like
One tent, one coleman lantern, a couple of fishing poles, and one iron skillet because it’s time to stop pretending that having a house and bills and stability is really what I dream of just because it’s what I’m supposed to want
One ticket on a vintage train, one sky-big and blue, and a few buffalo for aesthetic purposes so we can stop pretending we are civilized
One deep, heavy rainstorm with dripping clothes, scraggly hair, and runny makeup. No, scrap the makeup, it doesn’t do much for me anyway. Consider it a new baptism into the church of life and everything
Some duct tape, baling wire, and super glue, so I can fix every broken thing I see.
Some wisdom, so that I know that some things should stay broken. Maybe it can come in the shape of an owl
A book of jokes, something to make us laugh, something to make us smile. Something to make us stop being so damned serious now and then, for that is probably the true home of wisdom.
And finally, a place to rest where the mountains and the sky seem inseparable in the dim starlight, bats swoop low under our porch light, and love, companionship and friendship are as close as oxygen.