Kiss someone in the middle of July,
on a day when it’s sunny at noon
and raining its own private sea at 1p.m.
Leave trails of hands along the dust that cakes
the outside of your house. Pay homage
to all that it has held,
all that it’s protected you from,
Climb a mountain, hill, or any other natural
formation you’ve never been to before.
Call out to nature, forgive her.
Tell her she’s beautiful,
tell her she’s loved.
Learn how to play an instrument that isn’t
Forget them all. Find new people.
Go to Japan. Find the place where the sun
melts into the horizon, and pray for peace.
Dare yourself and eat some eel.
Stop trying to find God in the sky.
Instead, look for starlings, and wagtails.
Look for airplanes and kites
and clouds that look like the face of someone
you once knew, and forget them too.
Go to Paris.
Find the oldest copy of love
poems by Desbordes-Valmore,
and read it out to strangers passing in the street.
Love someone with the passion
of a dying sun. A sombre, last-breath,
lungs-afire kind of love.
Grow old like sandstone buildings,
be happy like the ocean breeze hitting the skin.
Spell love on your fingers
and watch someone’s face light up with joy
when they read what you had to say.
Bottle this light, and save it for a rainy day.
Fall in love with people who teach you new things,
like how to say the color blue in Norwegian,
or laughter in German, or how to fish in the Fontenelle Creek.
Forgive yourself in a language only you know.
Heal yourself the only way you know how: slam poetry.
Find your heart.
Love will come when it comes
but you’ll always feel homesick if you think
your heart is always someplace else.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
— Bucket list by aye rah