I think the term, mischievous, gets a bad rap. On occasion I have a day where I wake up feeling very mischievous. Now, as much as I would like to imagine that I would find the perfect man to live out my Bonnie and Clyde fantasies, being mischievous doesn’t usually involve anything particularly harmful. When I was living in Massachusetts in the summer time, there was a faux twenty-four hour bug that I had contracted. I needed to call into work and immediately drive to the beach where the blue ocean water could heal me. Maybe one person didn’t find the book they needed that day, but other than that I don’t think I caused too much trouble. My father has a little devilish streak that I think I inherited from him. His motives are mostly humor related and though he usually has a particular person he is targeting there’s truly no ill will meant. It typically ends with everyone laughing and my mad-scientist father feeling like a master mind. My mischievousness is playful. Someone who is dear to me tends to get a call or text that just says, “let’s play.” And how I feel about this person is sometimes solidified or changed by their answer. My intention is not to shirk my duties or responsibilities but to regain a sense of being a kid again, driving to the beach on a Tuesday, or going to a movie in the middle of the day. I’ve been falling in love with Matthew Zapruder while I read his book of poetry, Come On All You Ghosts. And in his poem “Yellowtail”, I think he captures what I’ve been trying to say. Here’s a bit of it,
I opened my eyes so gently I hardly
Noticed the difference. Before I was even
Awake I would already be flying
A Japanese kite, or sitting underneath
My favorite tree, biting my nails.