at the fountain

I pick my way around the puddles, shivering happily as I watch the trees froth ecstatic. The yellow flowers, once out of reach, now shudder on the ground where they are pinned repeatedly by pellets of rain. I see a million invisible pennies land in a puddle, thrown in fistfuls by some cosmic tourist and know my similar fate. My life will also amount to a localized concentric circle like all who came before me and all who come after me before vanishing in a small seismic ripple because I too, am a wish; maybe an awkward fumble by the universe, hastily stitched and already coming apart at the seams. Maybe a wish carved by a god distracted, abandoning me unvarnished and replete. Certainly, I am the conflicting wishes of two bodies in the dark, once, a long time ago, moving at different speeds, to different ends.

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