Who would catch you
if you lost every piece
beneath your ramparts
is not the right question.
Who could catch you
if you lost every piece
locked together, felled,
is the right question.
Despise the impossible.
Place anger efficiently.
Spit at vision.
Vision is imagination
with enough spice to try
what falls to possibility,
the impossible walking it's shadow,
but "hey" we're happy to be here, all the same.
It is what it is.
Swallow a balled up sock.
We're happy to be here, all the same.
Walking it's shadow in the wake of everything possible.
Why didn't you catch me?
You could have. Were I you.
Were I you I would have, except I am and I could not.
Why don't you understand that?
I would have tied your shoes for you everyday
for three decades before I asked if it bothered you.
I could have. I could have.
Now I do. I tie my own shoes for two and make myself blush
each morning before skipping over the threshold,
a glance shot through the mailbox.
I would if I could.
Should anything
happen to you,
I could wait.
If I could.
Power. Force. Control.
Option. Would? Yes, still.
How fun to be the same.
