February 6, 2009

If I were 7 and you were 5,
I would not hesitate to
push you and your pink
hair ribbon in the sand.

If I were an elephant and
you were a beetle, I would
crush you with my 40 gallon feet
in a swift step-ball-change.

If I were Uganda and you
were Liechtenstein, I would
never let you forget how you sit
so forgettably below the Bavarian belt.

If I were you and you were
this poem, I wouldn't let
you get away with this.