i'm just a tin can with a butterfly net,
and lying in the sun
for no other reason than
to lie in the sun.
so what if i climbed
the beanstalk young
and hit the tree-line early
beating the fe-fi-fo-fum
by four tourists
so the giant lost his appetite
before even saying hi.
so what if I peaked before my time
and it's all down hill from here.
so what if I reached enlightenment
and now stand dumbfounded and bitter
before a score of children who do not speak my language.
So what if I didn't.
dear emma stone,
it is either Wednesday or it's not.