travelers

once upon a time

you told me a story.

you said it felt like I was asking you

to pack your suitcase

and travel to the city I lived in

but you didn’t know if you would ever

make it there.

maybe I’m a fool.

maybe I’m crazy.

maybe I’ve screwed up one

too many times.

but I’m going to give you the same

answer now.

I will pack my suitcase with you

and go wherever you go

even if you never make it to my city

I won’t leave you behind

as long as you’re trying

as long as we go together.

maybe you never cared like I thought

you did–

but when I said I love you

I meant it.

I don’t care if we are always travelling

as long as I get to do it

with you.

just take the chance.

what do we have to lose?

wish with me

another year, another

set of candles on

another cake —

(I’ve heard that birthday wishes

sometimes

maybe

perhaps

come true?) —

I make the wish for the third time.

you.

you.

you.

— (I’ve heard that occasionally

just incidentally

hopefully

the wish you make with one

breath, has a chance?) —

you want me to stop

wishing it, want me to stop

hoping it, praying it

wasting my breath on

dandelions and too faint flames and

bare footsteps in the night-dew

grass under the stars, wishing…

but I can’t help wishing

just like I can’t help breathing

because to stop wishing

you

you

you

would be to stop being

me–

(have you heard it too? that

once upon a time, in a land

far far away, perhaps

on a star with a boy

and a fox

and a rose

wishes

could

come true?)