Where Pigs Can Fly

Fireflies and pretty dragons hover
Over my lake of stagnant dreams
Where I bit into mangos freshly picked
Magnificent summers hot and sticky
The ballrooms and the mothballs
Lime green grass beneath barefoot-dances
Slurping the nectar from the orange shell
Of the sour-sweet tangerines

Perhaps if you looked closer at my withered body
My crumpled face and frail coughs and splutters
You'd see that each wrinkle marks a memory
Where I skipped and jumped and laughed about
If I could snap this stick in two
I'd run out and do it all again

I'd flap my wings and climb up to the sky
To the world where I belong
Where frogs are princes and pigs can fly