The default is to blow out the candles.
The bigger point is how the flame
disappears with a poof and that masterpiece
of a cake is devoured. Luggage is a pain
to drag through the terminal
and once you land and locate the carousel
all the suitcases look the same
despite the tags and ribbons. All the seasons
belong to us: no blackout days allowed.
Japanese researchers have created monkeys
with Parkinson’s. My piano needs tuning.
Nothing is a science. Toward the end,
my mother did not wrap the presents
she gave me. Still, I acted surprised.
At least some genius thought to add wheels.
I like the optimistic last word!
I love the skillful sifting of related details that make this poem keep working, even after I’ve read it! “that masterpiece of a cake” got me past the calories, right into the intention and dedication of celebrating someone loved deeply and well. Right up there! Thanks.
Carousel, as the title, reminded me of a carousel for sale in Greenwood Mall, but, I shifted my memory to all the carousels I have stood beside as I have travelled the world. Great Job…