Sunday, May 09, 2010

I Can

I Can
Or Soapy Water
Things I can do…

I can go slowly.
I can say I am a SAG member.
I can be silly.
I can still grow hair on top of my head.
I can change the world, starting with myself.
I can sit on the front porch swing listening to and watching the birds.
I can conserve.
I can read.
I can shop when necessary.
I can feed myself.
I can often be social.
I can live just fine without alcohol.
I can play.
I can occasionally understand other people.
I can pretend.
I can cook (in my opinion).
I can change.
I can sleep at night.
I can use a cell phone.
I can miss a meal.
I can honestly say I never inhaled.
I can clip my own fingernails.
I can stop and smell the flowers whenever I want.
I can see the ocean sometimes.
I can have a really good BM most days.
I can chew my own food.
I can surf the Internet fairly competently.
I can remember my name, today.
I can speak a very little Spanish.
I can overeat.
I can swim.
I can live with less.
I can concentrate sometimes.
I can make a positive difference in this universe, one person at a time.
I can write pretty well sometimes.
I can laugh at myself.
I can make the time to watch the sunrise and sunset.
I can definitely live on a cruise ship.
I can help people.
I can fail.
I can find peace.
I can create art.
I can drive a golf cart.
I can remember where I’ve been.
I can always use a Popsicle.
I can usually smell a rat.
I can seem vague.
I can care about others.
I can be happy 99% of the time.
I can take care of myself.
I can remember where my shoes are.
I can text.
I can go the distance sometimes.
I can party.
I can do my own laundry.
I can feel sorrow.
I can go kite flying when it’s windy.
I can be sedate.
I can try.
I can get up out of bed every morning 99% of the time.
I can heal myself.
I can recycle, reuse, and reduce.
I can forgive.
I can only go forward.
I can smell and taste.
I can remain silent.
I can understand some things.
I can go to the movies every week.
I can eat whatever I want.
I can be a taxicab driver twelve hours a day.
I can walk alone when I want to.
I can hear the wind.
I can use my mind.
I can be still.
I can walk to work.
I can generally tell a fake.
I can sometimes find what I’m looking for.
I can enjoy new experiences.
I can be blind.
I can believe in world peace.
I can sew, kind of.
I can never hurt anything.
I can walk to the park across the street whenever I want.
I can volunteer.
I can be compassionate.
I can sit with my eyes closed.
I can be patient.
I can afford to do whatever I want.
I can take a shower indoors or outdoors.
I can talk with almost anybody.
I can see.
I can make music.
I can clearly see where I’m going most of the time.
I can sometimes say the wrong thing.
I can wear whatever I want.
I can count to my age.
I can be flexible.
I can give to charity.
I can pray.
I can be polite.
I can see misery and pain.
I can have fun.
I can probably survive anything.
I can write another 600 words, but do you really want me to?
I can call my sisters anytime I want and probably get their voicemail.
I can survive a tornado.
I can skate a marathon.
I can shoot the breeze.
I can spell.
I can tell you where to go.
I can find a needle in a haystack.
I can learn.
I can grow.
I can play blackjack.
I can end this here and now.

682 words.

frank landfield
palm desert, ca
Mother’s day, 2010

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