Wishing for the disconnect....
every action has an equal and opposite
ambivalence.

(In this house, young lady,
we obey the laws of 
thermodynamics!)

Wishing for a morphine swim
in warm waters on a warm night.

Wishing for legs bumping into my
legs in the middle of the night.

Wishing for anti-wishes,
buddhist-blank-slate.

I see red-orange bubbles rippling up
from a purle-blue deep, 
sucrose stream of bright and popping
fizzle-stick whirlwinds.

Muttering to midnight wishes.
Furrowed neck, rusted gears.

Your move, Mr. Fickle Finger o' Fate