Probably Not.

Perhaps you'll go jump out of a tree
Or skip through flowers
Or eat small animals
Or whatever you people do for fun
But maybe not.
Maybe you'll watch the sunset
And think of buckets of puppies
And then throw up on your new shoes
And scream strange things
Out into the atmosphere
Like "Hello World!
My name is not Harriet
Or Phillip
Or Beatrice
And I do not speak Chinese!"
But probably not.
So instead you'll buy a pony
Or a miniature horse
And dress it in a rabbit suit
And ride it naked through the library
On a mission to find a werewolf
Who lives in an Italian restaurant
Off the coast of Puerto Rico
But most likely not.
I bet you'll dig a tunnel
That leads to an underground cavern
Where there's a secret civilization
Of talking gerbils in tuxedos
And become the King Gerbil
And make them pre-chew your bubblegum
And knit you purple leg warmers
Or maybe blue because that's your favorite
Then you'd make the gerbils do step aerobics
While you throw popcorn at them
But I doubt it.
Actually, I know what you'd do!
You'd just sit there
And stare
And think
And then you'd stand
And think
About what to say
And then say nothing at all
And sit back down
So I'd leave you alone
To sit and stare and stand and think and say nothing
And I'd go laugh and play
And do all of the things you didn't do
And I'd never worry about you again
But that probably wouldn't happen.