I want to do better.

I am not satisfied with three real books
and two secret ones
because I want to do better.

I want the dewey decimal system to have an
analog malfunction
competing to catalog my work.

I want to be the breath that magicians exhale
right before they cast the spells
that cure our pains.

I want to be the camel’s hump reserves for those needing
poetic nourishment,
or facing writer’s block.

I want to be the busiest of worker bees,
replenishing and pollenating all those food sources
that exist for hungry people.

I want to be the firefly glow
in the darkest of sealed caverns,
waiting for an etymologist to see in my aura.

I want to be super, human.
I want to be better than what I am,
because I know I can do more.