Cooper Magoon

All I do, is sit in class and day Dream about what could be. I think, and think, and think, and think. I move from a classroom in Queens, to the Brooklyn Bridge, to the top of the Empire State Building, to Coronado Beach. I buy shrimp in Market Square, Seattle and Hot Dogs at Wrigley. I go home, and watch the boats slip through the morning fog into Buzzards Bay, and make it back for Dinner at Junior's.

I am the writter of my own story, I am the master of my domain. When I'm awake, and have pants on, I consider it a winning sort of day. All I need is a touch of sunshine and leaves tumbling back to the tarmack and my cheeks will be pulled back ear to ear like the Coney Island clown.

Welcome to my world: cars, planes, and trains. Subways, busses, and magic carpet rides. Hey wagons being towed by moo-ing tractors around fields that smell of pumpkin pie and bannana bread.

Welcome to my hell: sitting here and writting this, wishing it were really real. Back to sitting in class, listening to the teacher from Charlie Brown 'wonk-wonking' the hours away.

Let me set sail for ports unkown. Let me chart a path into the fog. I hit what I hit, the sun shines when it shines, but I will not stay here and sit quietly forever.

I will scribble my scribbles, I will write my copy, and I will tell my stories. With headphones on just a bit too loud, flag me down, and we can road trip through anything :)