A Sick Child
The postman comes when I am still in bed.
"Postman, what do you have for me today?"
I say to him.
(But really I'm in bed.
Then he says - what shall I have him say?
"This letter says that you are president
Of - this word here; it's a republic.
Tell them I can't answer right away.
"It's your duty.
" No, I'd rather just be sick.
Then he tells me there are letters saying everything
That I can think of that I want for them to say.
I say, "Well, thank you very much.
He is ashamed, and turns and walks away.
If I can think of it, it isn't what I want.
I want .
I want a ship from some near star
To land in the yard, and beings to come out
And think to me: "So this is where you are!
" Except that they won't do,
I thought of them.
And yet somewhere there must be
Something that's different from everything.
All that I've never thought of - think of me!