King Friday and the Land of Make Believe

This may not be the time to offer this,

but I’m not as good as you hope I’ll be.

When we’re in a tunnel and I’m driving

I’m sure it would seem imaginary,

when I ask to lie on your floor

I really want to say—

“Can I stay and watch you

chop up green onions?”

You’re better than me,

I don’t know if you ever heard me say that.

On your phone you keep

a picture of the human brain.

When your father was deep-frying a turkey

your mother told me to keep playing music.

Maybe now I finally know what love is—

taking pictures while your dog wears glasses,

trying to describe what stuffing should taste like.

In my friend’s basement

you gave everyone Polaroids of themselves,

then we laughed at a poster of the human body.

And this is the part where I sit on your couch

and watch you teach your friend merengue.

This is where I try

to prevent myself from smiling

and I hope Trolley doesn’t show up

to tell me it’s time to go home.