what do you want to be when you grow up?

there are anatomically correct hearts
growing on trees this morning-- 
thick with summer 
& heat. the children take sticks &
smack at them 
&, for better or for worse, 
all the neighborhood cats 
have all disappeared. the children are 
doing that thing that kids do 
when they're scared, making fun of it.
they don't like to see such bold body parts--
they don't like to think of the world
beneath their own skin. they tease
one of the boys & tell him that he doesn't
have a heart & that his hearts are the ones
growing on trees. i take old shoes
& fill them with dirt: converse &
running shoes & a pair of white heels.
i go to plant them 
& i shoo the neighborhood children away 
with a fly swatter. they buzz. i buzz.
there's something too throbbing about nature lately.
there's something sticky on the sidewalk
which might be bold or might be syrup.
i eat syrup from a bowl & ask the trees
if they want any but they're carnivores now 
which i think is a little bit extreme.
the kids decide to follow the trees lead
& also only eat meat. i tell them 
that the grass is free to chew on 
but they want hearts & liver & kidney
& feet. my shoes love the dirt--
they swallow it so i feed them more. i ask them
what kind of plant they'd like to grow up
to be & they all want to be trees with big
thick hearts. the children answer too
they want to grow up to be rich & if not rich
they want to be useful-- they want to be loved--
they want to be influencers or at least
made of muscle & bone. at least edible.
most things are edible if you try.
there was some man who had a chef prepare his shoes--
he eat the whole thing bit by bit & i think
now why would he do that? my shoes are happy 
getting to become something with roots
but maybe i should have eaten them.
i warn the children that the hearts off the trees
probably don't taste very good but they're 
kids so they don't want to listen--
in fact the whole place is so full of beating
that they might not have heard me.
they were told a story in school about 
hunters eating the hearts of the lions they killed.
they knock the heart down & break it into pieces
like an orange-- the lobes come apart.
the color of a grapefruit & the taste of 
a balled up piece of aluminum foil.
they chew. new trees grow 
from the carcasses of shoes. i see the shoes 
on the kids feet & i wish i could steal them.
i could plant such happy new trees & maybe
those new trees would grow something bright
like lemons or cantaloupes. the hearts are 
everywhere & i'm sad. 
they go at all different rhythms. 
i know everyone's scared it's like living
in the barrel of a drum but this is how
a community like this solves a problem
they just ignore it & send the children.
my shoe-trees are weak & thin.
i go out to water them with pear juice
& pray it inspires fruit in them.