He is better than you, he is grand.
His fingers work at the speed of light
And he can craft in darkness.
The strands on his head move deliberately, effortlessly iridescent.
He is better than you, he is grand.
His constructions fit stadiums inside stadiums inside stadiums.
He plants dreams right into the ground, and he can levitate a horse.
He can shave just by thinking about it.
He is better than you, he is grand.
Those large feet face gravity everyday like loyal soldiers.
But he stumbles looking up.
And his chair broke and is so small.
By Reva Eiferman