When I brought you into this world,

I wanted you to know pure happiness.

I forgot about the festering presence

of kudzu and twisted wires waiting

to snag you in a den of diamondback


So I fed you with nectar of nastursiams,

lady bugs, moon cheese, Venus tarts,

and hearts of the praying mantis,

washed down with Milky Way milkshakes,

guaranteed to give you shiny eyeballs,

glowing like a radiant morning star.

I wanted to protect you from

buzz saws and bazookas,

and from every shmuck in a hurry

on the road to nowhere.

I wanted you to feel free

to be your idiosyncratic self,

flushing other peoples’ opinions of you

down the nearest toilet.

I wanted you to be at home in your body,

as comfortable as a trapeze acrobat,

and never to forget that health is wealth.

Also, have lots of silly, fizzy-fun-times.

I wanted you to watch a flock of geese

flying south, and accompany me

to every yard sale as soon as morels

pop up in my favorite grove.

I wanted you to always be in love,

and not marry a putz, and be blessed

with work that satisfies, and allows you

to have enough free time to release

your creative juices, making fine art

that wakes up all your loyal friends

to say: Hoo-Ha!

I wanted you to procreate and enjoy

the magnificent pleasure of raising kids,

bathing in the love you give and get.

And, keep in mind, there’s no such thing

as everything is going great.