in the city
amid trumpets, trucks and
sonic trash
in the naïve hope that some
universal force
-with a keen ear or satellite dish-
will take my squeaks seriously.
“Bring me to the cricket stars, the fireflies,
the muddy stains, and sunshine pecks.
The silhouettes of wilderness,
off the interstate at midnight.
Let me speak to orange tree bark,
Ice cream trucks and water fights.
And after all is said and done,
my warmest regards to the blood-sucking mosquitoes.”
I let my yearnings rise and fade with distant sirens,
car alarms.
But hope. And wait. And wish. And dream.
Hope. And Wait. And Wish. And Dream.
Hope. Wait. Wish. Dream.
Until-
