One Wish, Two Wish, Red Wish, Blue Wish



His hands are sweaty as he flips
the coin into the fountain.
It smells like the French fries he ate for lunch
and the insides of his pockets
and makes the pond water the slightest bit salty.

The change-piece sinks deeply into the murky water
past octopi and wild starfish
and other make believe lagoon creatures
and in my scuba gear and snorkel and water-waders
I find it lying sideways,
tails facing the sky.

He had wanted something desperately
and squeezed the quarter so tightly
(as if it were his last wish)
that he dented Washington’s face with fingerprints.
He must have needed a miracle to throw money
into a large body of Adam’s ale
complete with water features.

I don’t visit often,
just for wishes that are incredibly important;
mostly because I can’t hold my breath very long
and quarters get awful heavy in a set of thousands.

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