April Fox

maybe you remember
a time when
the sky was small and vast and
concealed in the palm of your
tiny pale hand and wide,
stretched tall against the bleak black
backdrop of the
universe
infinitesimal
immense

maybe you were just as small
and invincible
and grand.

maybe you remember when each note of a
tune fell
one by one
into your open, empty head
piling up like lincoln logs
building magic out of nothing
and you stood atop the structure
in your mind and played
confetti
with the stars

and
maybe
you remember
photo flashes and night
and the sun like a torrential rain crashing
down and burning you
until you froze to death
captive, held
by a smile and a line
from a long-forgotten
not yet written
song

or maybe you are simply
restless atoms,
nothing touching
nothing
touching
everything
and turning it
to glass.