I walk through the park every day. Sometimes I squeeze through the crowd and toss a coin into the fountain, longing vibrating through every molecule of my body. I’ve done it maybe twenty times now. I wish for the same thing each time. (I can’t say what it is, though— then it won’t come true. And I really need it to.)
Amid a cluster of intermingling people, I stand almost-alone; Me and my coin and my one wish.
I wonder, sometimes, how much it matters. If I’m just deluding myself and tossing pennies nickels dimes quarters Into the water, emptying my wallet splash after splash in naive pursuit of something I know I will never have.
Small children join me in tossing nuggets of wishful thinking, their parents laughing at the naivete of it all. I imagine a world where I don’t rely on a coin to shift my luck.
I wonder if I know somewhere beneath this self-deception that it doesn’t matter. That no matter how many pennies I toss, No matter how many stars I wish on, No matter how many dandelions I blow into the wind, eyes squeezed tight with desperate desire, Sometimes wishes just don’t come true.
But I know I’ll toss another coin in tomorrow. I don’t have to wonder about that.