he's teaching himself how to
tie sturdy knots and
breathe underwater; oh,
they'd call him mad

they'd call him mad.
he's mr. backup-plans,
got 'em labeled from a to z,
but he's not just a good boy scout;

see, he's got his own eden
of assorted rainbow pills,
weeks of quick fingers,
and he's done all the research for once,

and his hands have gotten good at this
i love you
thing,
this goodbye thing,
and his kindergartner's cursive has more-or-less evolved.