Have you ever watched a film and felt your mouth salivating?
Have you ever wanted to reach through the noise and grab a beignet?
Wanted to lick the powdery sugar as it blizzards around your nose,
Wanted to bite into the golden powdery pillows and not feel an ounce of guilt?
Have you ever wanted to be pulled through the screen by the marching bands,
Wanted to suddenly discover you had a natural ability to play the saxophone?
Wanted to tap your feet to the jazz and see others join the tune you’ve lost yourself in?
To follow the foot falls with others, hundreds of gleeful souls tracing the streets?
I want to join the Mardi Gras festivals of 1920’s New Orleans,
I want to be intoxicated by the sounds, smells and smiles half covered in carnival masks.
I want to dance until the early morning and laugh and be around a million friends.
I want to eat and drink until I feel preserved in syrup and syrups.
I don’t want to be sat inside eating the same four meals and drinking the same cup of tea,
I don’t want to be afraid of touch and familiarity,
Restricted by rules and fear.
I want to experience a roaring twenties, with my skirt hitched up to my knees and feathers in my hair.
End up in a close yet comfortable speak-easy drinking whiskey and waving to friends from the other night.
I want all of this and more, because if lockdown has proved one thing, it’s that I didn’t indulge as much as I should’ve.
I should’ve squeezed my friends a little tighter, stayed out a little longer, danced with more abandon and gobbled up everything life had to offer.
At least once things have settled, I hope to find myself in the roaring twenties 2.0, now just if I could find a plane…
