Wash your own clothes. You’re old enough. Clean the dishes. Carry the trash only when the boys let you. Run a mile. Keep your ears covered when you hear a loud noise. Hitchhike only at the beach. Hitchhike only with a friend. Never Hitchhike on a highway. Never HItchhike into others’ conversations. Hitchhike into the galaxy on a dark night when the clouds are clear, and the star constellations can be recognized. Never hitchhike with a boy who eats raw meat. Never hitchhike with a boy who twiddles his thumbs. Never hitchhike with a Rock Star who’ll throw you into space, flying on the wind, on a spider’s web maze, into cold drinks, and the neverending songs that give you his reverb for centuries.
Always obey your mother, and when you can’t, start screaming’ into the fire of the forest. Never jump into a lover’s flame and think you can turn back. Always walk on the wild side, though, and wonder at the world around you and how fast it’s changing. Always use your wildness to exchange currencies and engage the monetary prowess of Martha Stewart. Always run into the waves and jump into the ocean screaming like a banshee. Never divine the wrong gods, or they will come wailing into your consciousness and help you transcend the millennium, then revolve around in your mind, creating a vacuum between you and the universe. Always search for answers then and create a journey for your soul until you find heaven and the Clash. Then, when you hear the sound waves of punk Jump! Jump! JUmp! And run into a coverlet of quilted down because you might be frozen out in the cold.