When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities

by Chen Chen

Dreaming of one day being as fearless as a mango.

I am making my loneliness small. So small it fits on a postcard a baby rabbit could eat.

On Earth lately, I’ve been looking at everyone like I love them, & maybe I do. Or maybe I only love one person, & I’m beaming from it. Or actually I just love myself, & I want people to know.

I’m envious of the clouds who can from time to time fall completely apart & everyone just says, It’s raining, & someone might even bring cats & dogs into it, no one says, Stop being so dramatic or You should see a professional.

It makes your grief sit down, this house. It makes you chairs when you need justice. It keeps your rage room temperature. I’ve been thinking about how the world is actually unbearable. About all those moments of silence we’re supposed to take. Each year, more moments, less life, & perhaps the most monastic of monks are right to take vows of silence that last a decade.

like jelly beans. I’m afraid of death. I’m afraid of farting, even around people I love.

Or not. Do I love my mother? Do I have to forgive in order to love? Or do I have to love for forgiveness to even be possible? What do you think?