Aspiration

Tell me that you want the world. I’ll get it for you, even if it costs an eye.

Better yet, tell me you’re gonna get it first and I’ll race you for it.

I’m so lazy, lonely watching you dream of a small house with a chicken coop, not knowing to wonder what the mother of chicken coop shapes like, or son of.

I feel like your grandfather when you take pride in loving old things but mean the 1800’s. I remember the Apollo 11 Stones, which you have not heard of.

I feel like your furrow-browed toddler wondering why —with your silence— you say China isn’t real and provide no proof or explanation.

I’m so claustrophobic waiting for your world to grow enough for your patiently magnificent soul to stretch and see itself.

Tell me that you want the world. You can want it and I can get it for you.

Tell me you’re gonna get it first. You might do it, but not without being chased ’til the end; my heart has been burning for a run all this time.