a common enough expression,
lightly spoken, easily surrendered,
wishes become hopes or prayers,
depending on the gravity of urgency,
right, know that wishes are
gravity-resistance,
rising up to the atmosphere, where any
cruel, fate-focused, looking to be
amused, lousy lounging-around gods,
always cruising
for some real entertainment, might
snap
into action,
upending plans, ruining futures,
or tickling your fancy
with a run of fabulous luck,
by, due to, their fanciful footwork
in the near future:
I hope to live to serve tomorrow,
feel the
ingenuity of love’s aroma,
as fresh as a new morn born
fragrant croissant
in the near future :
I hope I hear
Rhaposdy in Blue
being played live
through an open window
and be joined by my fellow
sensualists in a spontaneous
street festival
in the near future:
I’m going to go on a slightly
oh so lightly
planned road trip,
domestic and international
to visit friends I have netted
in my butterfly catcher,
the human kind,
whose flowers of words I have
suckled the nectar thereof,
and thank them properly
with hugs, fresh fruit
and gifts that will
tickle their fancy
fanciful wordswork
and make it home,
a safe return
to those called family
and find them
happy healthy
and never complain ever again
about that
stupid grin
on my face
that just seems impossible to
erase
200am 2/13/25