I wish I could play the piano
or something else lovely like that
so I could come home every night
and play the keys that make you cry
before we sat down to eat--
I'd set the table
and you'd wipe your eyes

we'd eat quietly,
conversing through scraping forks,
porcelain against metal
and sidelong smiles between bites--
words are overrated anyway
and what's there to say?--
I'd watch the strays you missed,
liquid tragedy crawling down your cheeks
drawing mascara highways
and I'd imagine driving on one of them,
hydroplaning dangerously close to your skin
as a piano plays somewhere up high--
I suppose I'd need a boat instead

I wish I could paint landscapes
or something else beautiful like that
so I could travel to the mountains
on rainy weekends
and bring them back for you
I'd hang one on our wall
you'd watch the birds' still circling
high above the snowy peak
right before you fall asleep on the couch

I'd spend my weekdays
pulling stars from the sky
with old paintbrushes and older canvas
while I wait for the moon to fall into the lake
so I can swim in and take it home
I'd show up on our front porch steps
all sodden smiles and dripping clothes
holding it under my arm
and you'd let me track water in
all the way to the bedroom
so I could hang it above the headboard
where it'd stay for simple nostalgia
"remember when we caught the moon?"