perhaps

And they sparkle, and they glimmer,
jewels adorning the neck of a princess,
cold cut and hard rock,
maybe they’re plastic,
because she likes her rings fake.

she likes pretending that she’s trapped,

maybe she’s me,

maybe i’m writing about myself
(passive aggressive-passive-passive-passive)

or maybe i’m writing about nobody,
maybe fairytales are just

mushrooms circling damp dirt,

maybe the princess never found the pea,
maybe i never found purpose.

on purpose.

dilithium crystals

i used to pretend that i was kirk
maybe you were bones
(skin and bones, your mom used to say)
but you weren’t really a doctor,
not really.

we used to play flying,
f l y i n g,
a space craft made of s p a c e
a gear stick in the form of
your hand mine
holding

now,
I think I’m probably more
engineer olson,
stupid and reckless,
(why don’t I pull the shoot)
spock,
calm and logical and
furious.

But you’re still bones.

You still kind of patch me up.

You still kind of make me think I’m Kirk.

Brave, [aye captain] determined, “still stupid, kid.”

(i’m off in the stars)