I want to tuck myself into clouds.
Float over the terrain,
fall all over you in thunderbursts,
soak your clothes, ruin your hair.
I am devastated
at the sight
of your umbrella.
You still jump into every puddle.

I want to bake myself into your favorite pastry.
Present it to you.
Watch you eagerly
pick it up.
What a delicious surprise.
I won’t tell you the secret ingredient
until there is nothing
left of me.

I want to write a dictionary out of me.
I want to define the language
of your mouth. Your tongue
until every word you say
becomes meaningless.

I want to mix myself into the cement
of the foundation of your home.
I want to be solid for you.
I want to hold up your walls
until they crumble.

I want to fold myself into paper cranes.
I want to make a thousand of them.
I want to tuck all one thousand of me
into a chamber of your heart.
On nights when you need a wish
you can release me
everywhere you go.