Atomic Emptiness

I’ll sew a hem on your trousers, so you’ll not get dirty, the next time you dance in dirt.

I’ll learn to speak Latin for you, if you think that would help.

I’ll accept all the unintended consequences of the least worst decisions, and I’ll watch suns set with you.

Why not?

But I will not jump into the icy, river water for you, that place where you always drown.

Where the current is too strong for you, and where I can’t float to safety.

Instead, I’ll write a haiku for you.

Put a Victorian bird bath in the yard for you.

Listen to the breeze and the light with you.

And sleep until June ends.