If there were a potion
to turn ordinary
into wonderful
I have not yet found.

If there were a medication
to take my dictations
and turn them into
Shakespeare.

If I could find some herb to season
my verbs, my nouns,
to make my sober words
renowned.

If there ever were
I would call my pusher,
wait at the curb quill and pad
awaiting
his pulling up.

my last dollar
i give him.