Here’s to growing up so nuts
that I believe I can fly
up, up and away like Superman
playing insane in the membrane
so I will not grieve
as autumn leaves,
flee the trees, and I ask, what
can’t you even say goodbye?
Still, I try and understand
even though it’s such a pain
that I take solace with Mary Jane
because who would want gravity
when all everybody asks is, what’s up?
The forbidden fruit, that’s a mile high
I might land,
fall, crash, will I ever be able to stand
another Pina Colada and being caught in the rain
or even the sun shining
hard enough, rich enough, am I tall enough
to talk to God in the sky.
What if he says why, why
with red eyes I planned
to dream, the impossible dream on this airplane
Well, I believe…
only the stewardess says but
sir, I’m all out of love
Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.