Go, Going, Gone

Deodorant, a towel, an upside-down tissue box and some Christmas CDs.

I want to go.
Far AWAY.
To places I have never known, and will never get to know.
I want to wake up every day and get lost, and then find my way. Only to get lost.
I want to struggle with language.
I need to go.
I need to go to Italy, to Europe, to somewhere without America. I want to see the past and the future collide, I don't want to live in the present. Forget tradition and being safe and sorry, I want to be smiling where it is sunny and the water is clear and people don't talk in a language that is easy to speak.
I wish.
I wish I knew what it was like to not be American. I want to be born in England, or Czechoslovakia. Maybe Denmark. Definitely Switzerland. or Belgium.
If only.
I could go.
Be going.
and be
gone.