Cake

Zao says, ‘It’s a piece of cake,’ looks at me, adds, ‘Something hard is a giant piece of cake.’ Slides down stairwell bannisters while I try to keep up, trotting as fast as I can but he beats me by seconds, 

swooping like Spiderman and I am still both feet on the ground. In his presence, I get a taste of flight, reminder that magic is yet afoot, even with all the darkness, all the terror, all the rage.  

Zao slides down stairwells, draws illusion boxes, tells me if he eats fish eyes, he will see through things. Your third eye, I say. He smiles, touches a mark on his little forehead, says, ‘It’s here.’  

Some beings arrive with all essential knowledge already tucked within their small hearts. Shows me how he can draw with his eyes closed, exclaims, ‘I have a superpower!’ So many, I think.  

The powers to dispel doom, see wonder everywhere, learn a new language, request so little, be content with even less.  Superpowers and beyond, little man, little angel come down to earth 

for a brief and shining stay.