I suppose
if I could metamorphose
Into a new skin
with wings
and a bigger brain
I would.
I contemplate
that this fate
may not be
the best for me.
And yet
I wait
I will grow
and cocooned in the modern american sheen
Dream of wings
miles away
from an airport or two
across the bay
they wave
from boys in areoplanes
I know
there is great green valleys for me
with deciduous trees
and anemones
and bears that ski
on their big fluffy bellies
in the shadow of some upthrust rockface
I beat
the drum of bloody life
and think the heavy drought of thought
and drink
the steaming heat of dreams
I knew
when I was a zygotic mass
imbibed with life
and stolen with soul
That I would be
The best damned butterfly
You'll ever see.