teach me to fly.

teach me to think -- with slender, delicate fingers
and tippy-toed feet that are (ballerina-like, perhaps?)
with feathers too, of course -- for what is a mind,
if not wings we float our thoughts upon?

pretend to be hermes with me: together
you and me can handle it, i think. or if not
we can be angels and sit with saint peter
if you prefer.

there, you can teach me to soar --
i dont want to find that when im on the ground
that i have to clip off my wings.