Let me go there, where the concept of time is abstract. Where intangibles like laughter and freedom find room around the tangible corners of our existence.

Where accomplishment is measured not by age, because what if I don’t – get married on your terms or build my dreams upon the inconcrete slab of absurdity and status you have set?

Let me go there, where the summer sun polishes my sheen and luster, so I don’t have to worry about being dark-skinned. Where cerulean blue provide canvas whence upon to cast my vision, as a thousand vines bear witness to my lackluster naivete and macho bravado. I am spoken for.

Let me go there, or there, or perhaps there; does it really matter where? Albeit my sobriety I must maintain and my dignity defend.

Let me stand by the wayside and recite my soliloquy to bystanders. Perfect spectators to my inner conflict. Silent audience whose pointing fingers strongly accuse, “You, have lost your wits!” Yet with no witty retort I might conjure.

Let me go there, where my name is unsang among the heroes, yet my actions defended by the willows. Where chance and luck are equal, even though dawn and dusk refuse to coexist on the same side of the divide.