I Can

I dream because I can. I dream in the morning while brushing my teeth about the kites that fly in the sky, Those kites that get broken by scissors and tainted by our polluted air. And then I wonder, what happens to the kids in the alleys who fly those kites? What does their laughter sound like as they run from one end of the street to the other? I imagine it’s like a wind chime: unexpected yet tender. How does their hair move against the wind as they try their hardest to make something so frail thrive in a ruthless environment? It probably swirls around them, floating gracefully as if they were underwater. I dream during my theory of knowledge class, of people yelling and screaming. They infiltrate the air with sounds, sounds that don’t even make sense, But it doesn’t matter because they are heard. It doesn’t matter because they can express themselves. It doesn’t matter at all, because I dream of a world where maybe, if I screamed, if I yelled, someone would hear me. I dream while picking at my broccoli about the sequoia trees, which give a new meaning to craning your neck. Maybe one day I’ll be able to prance through trees that tall with long and luscious hair flowing behind me. Maybe I’ll have that sly and sweet smile on my face, hiding in the wind and laughing as if I am singing a song. I dream when I curl up on the floor of my room, hearing the soft and steady beat of my heart, Wondering how exciting it would be to dance to that beat with ribbons and confetti in the air, Without a care in the world of what happened yesterday and what will happen tomorrow Because maybe it doesn’t matter right now. I enjoy this moment because I can.