zhega ma

From loneliness you learn how to be alone
From laughter you learn how to smile
From the poor you learn how to give
and from children you learn how to grow

The time has come, sir wiggles said,
to talk of many things -
of tears and noise and rhythm bands,
of why the shower sings,
and how does hope expand itself
and lusting after rings

To the lips belong the sounding board
to the eyes belong imagined things
and to hands belong the mysteries
that brought you here and now
shaping, dreaming, always weaving on the loom
for hands, you see, are intimate
and contain more than this room

choose blue for his eyes and a mustache to frame
choose yellow for the shirt and her giggle kept in a jar
choose sand to walk on and green grass for naps
choose hearts that beat and need and hurt
take nothing more than you'll give back

you ask for a connection, between these wand'ring musings
"there's no more here than betwixt scallywags and kings!"
you'd cry
but i do quite wonder,
were you to relax your white-knuckled grip on that imagination you bridle
couldn't we, kind madam, dear sir, be slightly more than similar?