We could stand in the middle of the road and build a house together, I said, or, we could drive to the shore and see where the ocean carries us.
We could hop a freight to McDonalds, you said, and dip our fries in a strawberry shake and wait for the waves to wash away the parking lot and carry us back down the tracks.
We could read new books and burn the old ones, I said, and from the ashes of this bonfire of vocabularies a new ink is mixed and mortared and new words on new paper are written.
We could block out the sun, magnify the moon, you said, or estimate the day and hour and minute when the Hadron Collider rips gravity out of space and restores balance to the tides.
We could, I said, stand in the middle of the road and, like Magellan before us, circumnavigate our world just by touching fingers and lips.
We should, you said.