I thought I’d wish for wealth. But I soon learned
no matter what I saved or spent, or how
invested, I’d forego the power earned
from earning, obligated to endow.
Then specifying leisure time instead,
I planned to take the charm of no more work,
till I remembered effortless. My head
returned to labor and my heart from murk.
So I considered immortality.
As soon as I envisioned time’s demise,
I saw a bored and lonely, jaded me;
I’d rather sprint existence. I’m not wise
but I can forecast where three wishes drift:
my genius must refuse the genie’s gift.