the sun bursts open
and the alcoholics
tear open themselves
by sipping freedom
out of a beer can.
and they'll be forgiven
when they're pledging to flags
and thanking great men
like adams, and washington,
and thomas jefferson,
for blessing us all
with this great republic,
for which it stands,
one nation, under god.

but what they don't know
is that gods are rising
beneath the surface.

which is why i have to hide
inside footprints and
craters and all the leftovers
of beautiful minds.

because i am terrified
of getting in the way
of something that matters.

and the world explodes
very quietly
as i punch dots
into my bedroom wall.
in honor of
the fucking nerve
of that mathmatician
who really did promise
he'd record my name
in a formula
and make my face
the value of x,
but then casually
explained the rules:
not even einstein can create
something from nothing.

and the universe is
eighty nine billion dots
in a paul signac painting,
and the astronauts
know it best when
they're outside in playgrounds
jumping through a moon.
and the song stuck
and crammed inside your mind
is really marilyn monroe
trying to find a president
to sing to as to ensure
that he remembers
that it's been sixty years
since he's died,
but when you're president,
you get to stay alive.

and all the while,
where am i?
you can't see me,
but my lungs are shaking
when you spin me
round and round
in the shadow of
your great carousel.
oh, please, god, please,
don't you push me down,
because giants like
you are strong,
but i am weak
and i can't scream
as loud as you.

but, just so you know,
someday i will
be very, very loud.

someday ,
i will
be
a somebody.