I try adult tap classes

with my 62 year old mother.

I take a crochet course

and make a blanket from granny squares.

I start a new collage book.

I pause to let cars merge.

I lobby at the capitol.

I take up drawing with acrylic paint pens.

I buy 20 boxes of thin mints

from trans girlscouts.

I try breath-work and yoga.

I round up for whatever childhood cancer

the Walgreens clerk mentions.

I collect ceramic pigs.

I pass out on the floor

of a community ceramics room

after sculpting a decorative egg.

I write angry emails

to all my representatives.

I take improv classes and perform

with strangers turned friends.

I eat an entire tomato

straight from a vine.

I read a book a week for 6 long months.

I donate to an abortion fund.

I buy a second pebble ice machine

to fulfill my iron deficient daydreams.

I schedule a tattoo appointment.

I try the new s’more’s McFlurry.

I still fear the world and I are irreparably damaged.

I still have no clue what to do

with a handmade decorative fucking egg

but I am not inclined to turn life down this year.

Anyways, I could always take up woodworking

and make the perfect display stand.