What problem?
Lord knows
We were fed and safe and tucked in at night, with somewhere to go in the morning

The air was magic
Man, was the air magic
For us, at least — which was the problem

The laughter spilled
Our future felt filled
It was all more than we could ask for

And we didn’t have to ask — which was the problem

We didn’t ask whether they could spell magic
Whether laughter flowed from their windows
Were their futures filled?

Were their babies and boys and men fed and safe and tucked in at night, with somewhere to go in the morning?
Lord knows
And that’s our problem