if i could change anything,
i'd reach my hands into everyone's
hearts and pluck out the
hatred, and bitterness, and
unwillingness to recognize their own
seven billion people would
storm the streets and kiss each others
cheeks and there would be
seven billion apologies ringing
out into the stratosphere.
sons and daughters would grab their
aging parents by the hands and
take them out for the picnic they always begged
former best friends would pick up the phone
and call halfway across the world and whisper
secrets across the ocean,
and they lines might be jammed because
everyone would be calling their exes,
to say "sorry i left," or "sorry i didn't stop you."
in new york city there would be
eight-point-three million deep inhales
and everyone would feel light again,
and in las vegas everyone would hop in a cab
to the airport, running home
to say sorry
to their mothers and fathers and sisters
and brothers and children and lovers.
everyone in the whole world would laugh
when they realized that they didn't
mind that their blind date didn't call them back,
and everyone in the whole world would smile
and pay for the coffee of the person behind them
in line at the coffeeshop.
if i could change anything in the world,
i'd just lift the veil from peoples eyes.
they'd realize they were one and the same,
and they'd wonder why
they waited so long with hatred in their hearts.