12.13.10

illusions

i was once

asked what i wanted
in life. what it was
i wished for most.

it was a casual conversation,
but i took a long breath
to consider my words,

and smiled:

. . . . i want

to wake up early on a saturday morning,
wrapped in clean, white sheets.
i want
. . . . sunshine
pouring through my window
onto a warm wooden floor --
that quiet sienna glow
that turns dust into pris-
matic
. . . . fairies. i want with me

a tall glass of orange juice,
cool
and thick
and heavy --
. . . . a porridge of citrus pulp

. . . . and i want

the day's newspaper laid out
in front of me
with all of the possible activities
eagerly visible. i want to explore them
with my fingers
as i circle all the exciting events
that i'm about to do that day.

that is what i want.
more than anything.

.

"so you want superficial things."

.