A Belletristic Bucket List

I came across this list poem in an old notebook this week – well, only the first part can really claim to be a poem, the rest is more of a hum – it was called Bucket List, but it isn’t a proper bucket list either. Entirely devoid of such entries as, “Go to Coachella,” or “Run a marathon.” However, even though few of my goals require either serious training or an extensive collection of bralettes, I haven’t done any of them since I made the list. Seriously, I need to get my priorities in line – here I’ve been toiling to make a fortune, when all I really needed for contentment was $12.39 to buy a meat cleaver. Anyway, here’s my inaptly named list hum. What might yours include?

Bucket List

I’ll buy a small apartment
I’ll paint it cherry-red
And eat a box of chocolates
While lying on my bed.

Drink champagne from a teapot
Cut my hair in the kitchen at 3am
Start new
Take a road trip in a car without a radio
Fall in love with the back of someone’s neck
Have a very public breakdown
Live alone in a house by a lake
Slap someone
Kiss a boy in corduroy
Walk barefoot in the snow
Wash my hair in rainwater
Live inside a locket
Grow a rosebush
Pick blackberries
Bathe in a stream
Dry in the sun till I’m bleached
Bring home my own Christmas tree
Make a pot of jam
Write a letter that someone keeps
Have poached pears with saffron at a dinner party
Be excorcised
Garden a medicine cabinet
Get revenge
Pierce someone’s ear
Make a Christmas pudding
Follow a map
Break a bone
Own a meat cleaver
Give someone flowers
Smoke a hookah
Tell them I’m sorry
See film melting onscreen
Fall asleep in the bath
Convalesce
Fill my room with sunflowers
Dance around a bonfire
Toast the perfect marshmallow
Feel how heavy a crown is
Sleep through Sunday
Kiss a stranger on New Year’s
Make someone laugh
Get lost
Twenty letters to a friend
Share a popsicle
Lose my mind
Eat a bagel
Make an entrance
Make an exit