I didn’t want to be raised
by a sad mother.
I didn’t want her brother
to have died in World War II.
It’s hard to change history.
Even God can’t change history.
But with one trick, I will.
It’s 1912. I’ve gone back in time.
Adolf Hitler has just been rejected
from the Viennese Academy of Fine Arts.
I speak perfect German.
I have a purse full of gold marks.
I track down young Adolf
and knock on his door. It opens.
Ich bin gekommen um deine Bilder zu sehen.
I have come to see your paintings.
Wie schön, I say. Verwunderlich.
I purchase several. I rent a gallery.
His paintings get better. He sells more.
His mustache gets messier.
He keeps painting.
World War II never happens.
The Jews of Europe, the Gypsies,
they all survive.
No Hiroshima. No Nagasaki.
My uncle has his 23rd birthday.
My mother smiles.
She is so pretty.