There is a boy I know
who has a list of everything in life
he wants to do
he crosses out each one like pies
in a pie-eating contest
which isn’t to say he doesn’t enjoy them
just that there are so many
and the days slide away
like soap
I start my list
but then I think about The Price is Right
and how stressful it must be to pick
between the prize you can see
and the mystery
behind another door
it’s like that with lists
you can plan so much
that fate gets annoyed
and leaves you the plot
you asked for
which might sound good
but I’ve never been able
to read endings first
I put my list away
it’s night and the sky is thick and wet
like the inside of a whale
wanting is a strange thing
I tell my son
who pushes his face into the air
like a hungry dog
then I remember
desire comes from the phrase de sidere
which means from the stars
I learned this a long time ago
from a dry face
in a bored room
but it split open my ribcage then
as it does now
my son whines
in that tinny voice
that wants everything
I tell him
that maybe desire is to wait
for what the stars will bring
but he is already quiet
in the quenched pond
of sleep.