We talked about trapeze artists. 
How they catch one another on the cusp of a breath. 
All for the show. Eager eyes pointed up.
They live by getting lifted 
and taking advantage of direction.
I asked if you’d ever be one. 
You said no. You were too afraid of heights. 
I asked you why you were afraid.
You told me you were afraid of falling. 
I told you I was afraid of failing.
But that if you would take a swing with me,
Feel the air go through your blue feathers,
and enjoy that feeling, i’d always pull you up 
with the circus of my hands.
And I told you to take my tiger heart,
made out of paper,
hold it from its purring, 
crumple it up gently,
and throw me to the moon. What travels!
I can look down across New Orleans and Paris
Listen to battlefields of beauty 
and promise you my love can only war backwards.
Raw like a rug burn.
I told you all of this. 

Ride a ferris wheel with me. We are carousel.