Busy Hermes, Fluid Power, Heavy Metal, Great
Pretender, Hop Toad, Burrhook, Indiana Weather,

smile upon this trembling prayer, fished first
in the last puddle of sleep, now cast
with True Test admiration and a tight
bedfart, for Your delight.

Rich Uncle, may You turn Your back on me
and on my dream. Forget Your luckless
nephew and his loveless life once more.

Abysmal Bottomline, be early bird at rummage sales, walk
backwards to the sunny table with the odds and ends, hang
out a sharp eye for the hand-me-downs that turn to gold.

Ace Up Your Sleeve, save our games for this afternoon. Sure
Thing, Just The Ticket, Too Good To Be True, play bait and
switch with used car dealers when I go to kick some tire.
Sit on my glasses when I need to read fine print. Drop my
mail in the mud. Throw my paper on the roof. Close the ticket
window in my face, zap my reservations, send my luggage to Zaire.
Park me in. Ticket my dog. Put shampoo in my conditioner, soap
in my eyes. Burn my beans and eat my tape. But O

Mer-curious One, if, peeking, You remember
how You found Your heart, soaked all
beside itself with laughter at Her
tumbling in the foamy tide, then gulped
and plunged into Her beauty, like a cosmic
voyager forever lost a mile from home,
Map Upside Down, so closed your eyes
and like a mole starnosed the way,

Kid Jive, play at Her side this morning. Wink
a blind eye upon me and all us wretched
souls who woke to find a treasure
snuggled in their arms. Just once,
Generous General, in giving be for
giving. Now, while he or she still
sleeps, we spit and pray, that You will
leave us to be loved yet one more day.

Tom Koontz
The Flying Island 1995