The Wish

The Wish I dream of sleeping in a bed of rose petals like an Indian potentate who waits for his favourite concubine to come to join him in his bed? I know I have to wait long till the petals are squashed and cling to my body itch my bed will smell of degeneration. I drive a motorbike across the Alps but can’t smell the edelweiss for petrol fume; cows go on grazing unaware of my presence. If I swim in the Ganges, it will be among the corpses floating down to a heavenly ocean. There is a temple in India dedicated to rats; I will go there, seek a cure for my fears of vermin Jasmine flowers are enchanting like virgins open up late at night but I will not swap any of them for my sweet almond tree.