If given the chance to live again,     
I would be more Mexican. I'd have a cool
nombre--Rafael or Francisco.
I wouldn't wear pants;
I would wear pantalones.
Most importantly, I would be a much better dancer,
well-versed in the salsa and the merengue.

I would be more French. I would eat
French doughnuts:
those are called croissants.
I'd wear French hats. Those are berets.
While sitting outside a street side café,
a baguette in my hand
I would gaze up at the Eiffel Tower
and say things like "sock ray blur."

I would be more Egyptian. I would harvest papyrus
along the wadis of the Nile.
I would communicate through
an alphabet of birds
and swirling symbols. Once it was my time to go
I would call for a Sphinx to be built.

I would be more Japanese, Haitian, Kenyan,
Brazilian, Hutu, Amish, Danish, Slavic…
When asked of my heritage
I would shrug
not having the time to explain my roots.

It's a big world
filled with strong spices, ceremonial dances,
tongue-twisting languages, greener grass.

One life is simply not enough.

© 2009 by Brendan O'Brien