Hey kid, wanna be the Greatest Of All Time?
Uh, yeah. That’s just what I want.
You willing to make some sacrifices?
Sacrifices? I don’t know. Like what? 
Easy kid, ya don’t have to strangle a cat 
or nuthin like that.
Oh, ok. I’d strangle a cat…
No, ya don’t have to. Here, take this painting 
and hang it in your locker.
Hey, that’s me!
Yeah, you look real handsome, kid, 
kind of California innocent, ya know?
I should keep this in my locker?
Yeah. You might want to look at it from time to time.
Ok, what else?
What do you like to eat, kid?
Uh, I don’t know. Hamburgers sometimes, pizza…
Well from now on none of that. 
Nothing but disgusting protein shakes 
and vegetables no one has heard of. 
Can you do that? Oh, and lots of exercise.
And I’ll be the Greatest of All Time? For how long?
Long as you want, kid, long as you want.

(If the meaning of this poem escapes you, please see 
https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/all-the-ways-that-tom-brady-is-footballs-goat/)
                        

My granddaughter has been chosen to perform 
with the regional orchestra.
Her cousin, who is eight in this world we’re making, 
slides down a long hill on a red plastic sled. 
Later she will write a poem about how she felt 
cold wind on her face and how her palms pressed 
hard against the sides. 
She didn’t know how loud she screamed, 
and laughed when she saw the video. 
Her sister laughs too while she eats frozen mangos. 
She’s four and she rode down the hill too, 
but her Papa held her on his lap the whole way down. 
All of this is happening in the fourth granddaughter’s dream.

All night she hears her sister playing the violin, 
a part she’s learning in a country song 
about an owl who crossed the borderline.
It’s a backup part, and then, 
suddenly, a solo for about fifteen bars. 
She sings better than the lead, who wears 
a red dress to rehearsal, eats a small bag 
of peanuts at the break. 
The dreaming one tosses in her sleep. 
Sometimes she wakes up perpendicular to the bed 
and when we tease her, she doesn’t mind. 
She takes things easy, this one,
and truth is, we’d all be better off if she were left in charge.