I like for people to tell me I’m getting taller.

I like ridiculous things

Like wings on cats

And lips on birds

And synthetic filament horsehair strings.

I like to pull the bow across a fiddle full of them

With a rattle snake rattle on the end of the bow,

And listen to the prale and prattle

As the violin gossips and threatens its jaunts.

“Oh where are you going, and where have you been?” I sing.

“And what ridiculous things have you seen?”

And the sea shanty comes, with its finely spun tale,

And only the spirit can interpret the tongues

So that I can behold them with glee,

And my mind’s greedy eye can feed me,

And I can grow taller.

Promise you’ll never stunt my growth!

Rather, verily, speak this oath to me!

That you will never, ever withhold

The stories and songs and poems

From times of old and the prophecies 

Of things to come,

Ridiculous things to come.

-jenn