I long to be a horseback-riding goon,
a cold stream guarding towers of jewels hewn,
a soldier taking photos from the moon,
a brave and stately knave who makes girls swoon.
I long to be a smartly-dressed monsoon,
a uniform upon a red baboon,
a flying lizard in a kids’ cartoon,
a sly and wizened magical buffoon.
I long to be a fighting macaroon,
a button like a shiny picayune,
a banneret across the afternoon,
a legend of the woods like Daniel Boone.
I long to be a beach contrabassoon,
an instrument of peace upon the dunes.