For my birthday, I want to go to
Build-A- Bear. I want to pick out
a pink axolotl, and name her after
myself. You might think it’s weird,

but the RISD Nature Lab has an axolotl
named Xochi, so I'm not even being
original right now.  I don’t know if
Build-A-Bear employees like their jobs.

I don’t even know if it’s possible,
to like a job. I went to college, and became
very confused about capitalism. Mostly
because we could have created anything,

and we created this, and I will never
not be confused about that. I think if
I didn’t have a job I might just go to
every Build-A-Bear across the country

and steal all their little red hearts.
And then I would stand on a street corner
and give one to every stranger in Cincinnati
and ask them to tell me about their first love.

And a girl would tear up while she tells
me about her best friend. And a boy
would pull up pictures of his dad on his
phone. And I would tell them about

my older sibling and how they could
draw a dragon with their eyes closed.
And some asshole would probably throw
one of the hearts at me, but that’s okay,

I've been hit by someone I thought I loved
before. But this isn't a bruise poem.
It's a poem about how I would crawl
inside the Build-A-Bear stuffing tube

if they would let me. I bet I would sleep
for the first time in years. I think if I was
a Build-A- Bear employee I would probably
feel embarrassed, if I saw another adult.

Mostly because I would feel silly,
asking them to hug their stuffed animal,
to make sure it was made just right.
And it sucks, that I would be embarrassed.

It sucks, that we are supposed to pretend
we don’t want to play. I secretly think it’s
the coolest job in the world. Build-A-Bear
employees are creating miniature

Frankensteins. They are teaching
children reincarnation. They are
teaching them what it means to love
something so much it comes to life.

And isn’t that the most important lesson?
Isn’t that what they will remember,
years later, when they are trying to love
themselves back into wanting to be alive?