hover board

i want to be an animal.
i always have. in the summer
as a kid, i went barefoot as many
places as i could. the sun. the moon.
the roof. my father's back. 
a gun barrel my neighbor would point
at the stars in the hopes of bringing
his wife  home. the field dogs
slipping behind the curtain 
& back. i read on my little portal 
that there is going to be a mandatory 
hover board training school. we will 
all be above the ground. slowly
we will move into the sky. grow meat
from tiny tubes. they are saying 
it is for our own good but it is really
because a hover board is better than
a horse by which i mean good for
war. good for money gods & their
tunnels dug deep in the earth.
i think i will be bad at this next phase
of horrible. i might scramble down
to where the last dinosaurs are playing
pinball in the dark. i love the old machines
with the xylophone sounds. maybe if i
study the dinosaurs legs i can get
my belly to the earth. i can walk across
the bright language until i am talking
to the trees again & the flowers admit
their breaking names. i know how
these things go. eventually, the hover board
will seem so old that i'll end up one day
driving one without even remembering
when it is i gave in. i am hoping i am 
a dinosaur & not a bug. i do not want 
to survive too much. i would like
my bones to mean something to whatever
ghost finds me. i hope they crouch in
the dirt. i hope they do not wear gloves 
& that my grease makes the sound of a star.