three wishes

(a friend wrote today and requested a copy of this poem, which KC and JT used at their wedding)

three nights with which to wish three wishes
on the first night i wish for love

it is a love not like i’ve had, but like i’ve always wanted
one with the sturdiness of steel to support us
one chipped out of ice that withstands the hottest flames we can throw at it without melting

it is a love of grand design
immaculate
like I was told love was
like a spider’s web infused with air and light
weaved with spontaneous precision and set off perfectly by crystalline drops of water, refraction, and twilight

but alas wishes are for make believe
so the wish did not come true

three nights with which to wish three wishes
now i’m down to two

three nights with which to wish three wishes
on the second night i wish for love

a perfect love born of two imperfect souls
a love that surprises you with flowers and rubs your feet when you’re tired
a good morning my lovely type love
a love that has headaches and argues over movies but still holds your hand and gives you the last bite
that kind of love
the love that goes to work late and stays in your arms
the love that tells secrets over ice cream
a laugh out loud to the sweet spinning sky and dance on the side of the road because that is my favorite song type love
an embarrassing, awkward, imperfect love
a limpish, gimpish, lame little love with no need for excuse me and no time for polite that gets messy and sloppy and has fun in the doing so
a wonderfully perverse little unique little lovely that takes pride in the clumsy umumsiness of peanut butter and limericks and dances badly so gladly so badly from the inside of a mirror

that is the love i rolled down hills of wishes for on the second night

but wishing is for children who haven’t learned not to have fun

three nights with which to wish three wishes
now I’m down to one

three nights with which to wish three wishes
on the third night i wish for love

hard earth love
early morning cold love
love of chapped lips and running noses
make do with daises i can’t afford roses type love

a love of give and burn, live and learn, spit and rage and get better with age
that is the kind of love i am looking for

a love that is up all night with tears or with secrets
a love that finds solace in the heartache of fighting knowing it relents
like wheat against wind and moonlight and soft apology and gentle kiss
this is not love that needs the sunset nor weeps only from extravagance but rather in brightest day or darkest night, roof of steel or floor of mud take shelter in my arms and my promises take nourishment in the succulence of my lip and measure the horizon by the nearness of my gaze
that is the type of love i fractured an eyelid wishing for on the third night

three nights with which to wish three wishes
now what am i to do
i wished for someone to send me love instead he sent me you

and now i got no more wishes, all i got is you

i got no more wishes, all i have got is you

i’ve got no more wishes, all i’ve got is you

huh, son of a b****
realization
my three wishes came true

~Steve Connell
The Intimate Nature of Knife Fights