High of 65 and Rainy

Things I Wish Were True

a sweatlodge behind my house that is made of fragrant wood and that has “good vibes”
a house that is mine with old wood and bright rooms and a tree you can see outside the window
and a desk in a room with a wooden door you can close
floor to ceiling bookshelves with one of those rolling ladders, like a Baroque man of luxury
and a swivel chair and a comfy chair and a thick rug from whatever place sells good thick rugs that I have never found out about
a clawfoot tub I keep clean so when it is bone dry it is bone white and dusty and echoing in that way they do
and Uniball starts making my pens again

and my snoopy can speak in French which forces me to learn French
so we can chat (<---wouldn't he wish! (<---French joke)) I have long thick hair that, when braided, looks rustic and wild like someone churning butter and I can fly, but without wings which would be unsightly and freakish and full of mites and I have a garden in which all manner of things good to eat may grow and 20/20 vision My book is published to great fanfare; the famous minds of my discipline seek me out for counsel and I bestow my wisdom like Hildegard and the scriptures, and the botany and the stars and the star-signs and they turn my book into a textbook and I indoctrinate the nation's youth and I make a million dollars though there is no more money or the concept of money The seas stop rising and acidifying; the jellyfish stop taking over people stop killing each other people stop hurting animals people are nice strangers no longer tell you their goriest secret life stories at the bus stop in long meandering monologues while you are trying to make a grocery list The patriarchy is smashed! Clara Schumann Lives Benjamin Franklin's sister learns to write and becomes a great statesman though there is no longer a state the people live in harmonious anarchy together dogs run freely off leash in spite of the presence of precious children each more wholly unique and better than the last for there are no longer cars; the dogs are safe the children are safe because the dogs are safe we all just transport ourselves using our minds, like The Rowan I develop a fashion sense of some kind; any kind and can finally do "scorpion pose" and can play Schubert's fantasie in F minor with a friend and there is a porch with a swing and a mason jar and a cat who visits Heaven is real, and all my loved ones are there waiting for me, and the streets are paved with chocolate and feathers and coffee comes from nearby and is not exploiting the planet or other peoples and dolphins and people can talk to each other; now we may learn the secrets of the sea and all music shows begin promptly at 7:00 and are over by 10:00, no exceptions, NOT EVER I have read the Critique of Judgment and I have read Hegel and I have read Capital I have read Derrida and Foucault not just in excerpts and poorly I have read Spivak and Chakrabarty and Baba I have read all Barzun instead of some I have read Adorno I have understood Adorno; I have argued with Adorno You sir, are no Adorno and the world doesn't leave me behind or when it does it leaves me feeling okay about it, and quiet and okay in my solitude and in the dark quiescence of the corpse not clawing at the dirt and the wood like a monster but more like, oh well, you know? So long and thanks for all the fish.