If I could go running far from the house,

I would run to the thunderstorm trees

and ask them how they dare to hold their heads up.

 If I could capture a lady bird in a jar of lemon juice,

 I would sail away with shame.

If I were tied up to the ground with duct-tape rope,

I would be a madman named George

eating a whole forestful of blackbirds.

 If I were a blackberry,

 I would turn red and swollen like my teary eyes

and nobody would notice anything different.

 If I were a hill,

 fish would run up me on their scaly jumping fins.

If I were sea,

I would caress the tender sailors who fell into my sorrow.

If I could sleep and not worry,

I would be a bridge with stars passing under my chords.