This Poem Does Not Have A Happy Ending

it sounds cliche

because it is,

but if I could,

I’d go back

(yes, back in time)

and I’d ask

the kids of ourselves,

 

what are your

                       dreams?

 

and after a few seconds

of needed deliberation–

you can see it, can’t you?

two pure eyes

inflate like a red balloon,

growing almost completely out of

a head capped with a

terrible,

beautiful,

middle-part hairdo

(you get to style yourself

when you’re six, after all)

and, a smile steadily ascending

from the soul,

the answer,

suddenly,

LEAPS at you,

like the frog you just caught

(you really caught it!)

with your bare hands.

 

out of all the

countless,

awesome

possibilities,

you know what I bet

they don’t say?

 

business.

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