I make my wishes vague in the mornings.

Something good, as the eyelash
floats from fingertip.

.

Asphalt pillows may bring me closer
to that lost word:
an extravagant false wish.

.

I look for signs of whales
in soot streaked evenings,
a blue can in water,
a typewriter.

.

I rearrange furniture as ritual,
in darkness, glasses off.