the magic if

what if i could
open up my mouth so wide
that i could gulp up the
world like in some children's
book? like some shel silverstein
impracticality?

i could take in trees and
buildings - skyscrapers. i
could take in parks, slides
sliding down my throat. i'd
swallow birds and giraffes and
bridges and little grandma
houses. i'd eat up schools and
books, culture and ideas. fiestas
and rosh hashanas, new york cities
and banana cream pies. i'd chew up
knowledge and adventure, sadness and
true love. planes and clouds and
fathers and kids and flowers and
shakespeare and i'd gulp it all in,
tasting every flavor.

then i'd spit it all out.
but it will come in books and plays.

the pages would be filled with
endless poetry of casbah's and
festivals. of heartache and loss.
of sailing around the world.
of the joys of motherhood.

and the plays to be performed!
of backstabbing friends, of
quarrels, swordfights and one
man shows. plays with props
and plays with none. with
moonshine and songs and dogs
and clowns. plays of wistfulness,
poignancy and hilarity.

when i spit my books out,
if i ate the whole world.
what if i could?
really,
what if i could?