You make me wish that lyrics weren't special,
That melodies weren't owned and
Harmonies weren't connected.
Wishing that whipped cream cans ran out of air,
That lungs ran out of breaths and
Hearts ran out of beats.
If only the clocks could have jammed their gears,
Stopwatches depleted their batteries,
Hourglasses stopped their sand.
The kind that gathers on this tongue and
Grinds away these teeth
Until these lips crumple in and
I couldn't speak your name if I wanted to.
I wish that cellular digits disappeared from this memory,
(Or memories dissipated in general.)
That miles stretched like taffy and
Beached hearts died as whales,
Gasping for breath in unfamiliar territory.
I wish you could eat my cancer and
Black and papery as the
Ash of a million unsent letters.
I wish these bricks could truly smash this face,
Reduce features to dust
Ground down by reality.
I wish that all the rolled-up newspapers would
Become no more than cinders,
Building craters around these feet and
Drowning us in sulfuric fumes.
I wish that plastic were cement,
That time were a river that could be
Dammed up and reversed;
Then maybe I could take it back and
There would be nothing left to forget.
I wish that metaphors would disintegrate
So my heart would truly be in your palm and
I'd collapse from loss of self.
(Because I'm already halfway there.)