I would like to have you obey me, which isn’t likely to happen. I would like to move you: forwards, backwards, and be in charge of your rate of speed. I would like you to need me like a fish needs water, a tree the earth. I would like to command YOU for a change, and have you at the whip of my mercy. I would like you to beg for my forgiveness, and embrace the changes I make.
I would like to move back the hands on your clock with my eyes, change the year on your calendar with my pen or keystroke. I would like your merciless linear ways to melt like ice to a torch flame. I would like to take your unforgiving ways to court and prosecute you for cruelty. I would like your uncaring, heartless digital LED to be in prison, justice served, convicted by a jury of your peers.
I would like your parole to be community service, forced to pay retribution in full, no credit for time served. I would like to go back on you, so you’d have to follow me for a change, living those years again, before Mother’s early death, when childhood innocence believed pain was for others, not for us. I would like you to tell me from the beginning- of your heartless cruel ways, and warn me how you and life have conspired to turn belief into fear, hope into hopeless, life into death.
I would like to go back and enjoy the boyish warm summers, a young girl’s flowing hair, a family Christmas. I would like to be there again and feel the love and endless possibilities. I would like to warn them of what will happen in the absence of fondness and gratitude.
I would like to feel my father cheer me on, or teach him how. Or take him from his drink. I would like to glide down the hill, feel the blades on the sled, the wind erasing the wrinkles on my face, and the mistakes on my resumé. I would like a life on a mountain, in a forest, in a city. I would like peace to be here now and not at the end of the road or the light at the end of tunnel.
I would like to turn your dials, set your settings. I would like to live where the alarm never goes off, where time is soup in a bowl, and fog on the sea. I would like schedules and timetables to disappear and be replaced with short dark nights and a full moon. I would like to breathe all things blue and green without a watch, without a clock.
I would like to sit in school and not count the seconds until the next bell, day after day, wishing you away like a puff on a dandelion, without a thought of your brother, Tomorrow. I would like to have soaked in more of the beauty of Brenda or the marvel of existence instead of thinking my eyes could move you faster along around the circle.
I would like to have the power of the wind to fill the sails or turn the turbine, look you in the eye and say you really don’t matter, and forgive you for what you’ve done. I would like to commute your sentence and watch you hand in your prison clothes, and have you mean no more than a hole in my pocket, where the losses there are a pen, a few coins and a chapstick.