if only if only

if I
were a tyrant
I’d cry sandstorms, I’d hold babies on my knee
If I were
a fireman
I’d sing to the tear-faced little girls
as I carried them away
from their fast-burning worlds
If I
were a metro door
I’d stay open a few seconds extra to let the hurried smoke-bathed young man step on
If I were
a library
I’d leave unread old gardening and history books out sometimes
just to see if anyone would read them,
would pity them
the way I did
If I
were you
I’d read that letter again and again
and cry a bit
and send a purple heart her way
If I were
a water snake
I’d slither up and scare the fishermen away
just to give the naive lovely silky gray carp
a head start
If I
the jet stream
I’d catch every paper plane under its fragile paper wings
I’d be the wind
always at your back.
if I were a poet
—if I were me,
truly literally—
I’d bleed succulent fuchsia-violet words

{if I
were me
I’d be the truest, bluest me
and I’d love like heaven}


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