Getting What You Want


I remember  switching immediately to daydreaming after a major disappointment or a failed expectation or the lowest depth of disappointment while staring, unblinking at the antithesis of the oft-hinted-at gift squatting in that precisely weighted and hopefully shaped box about what I would do if I was able to achieve the singular impossible opportunity presently reserved for the dead and unattainable to those breathing, of actually getting a second chance.  Not a singular one-off; not a chance to re-do a regret; not the reliving of that one, absolutely perfect, unquestionably spectacular twenty-four hours with whomever-it-was as bodies twisted, limbs entwined like climbing vines or prostrate, like fallen trees whose crisscrossed collapse balanced their different dimensions, relieving the lighter from the crushing heft of the larger.  But a real, comprehensive, empty second chance at life, at getting what you want, at becoming rather than became.