Formerly The Diplomats

One of the first things I learned
was that I did not have permission
to pick flowers
from flower gardens
but dandelions were free game
I would sit on the patch of grass
across from the rose bushes
my mother planted
beside the mailboxes
at the apartments I grew up in
and make wishes upon wishes
on the curb of East 24th Street

The mailbox was a prayer request
I would sit and stare at
Waiting for submissions, rejections,
or any correspondence to me
I must have blown a million
little circuses of fantasies
and picked the petals of every wildflower

He loves me, he loves me not
He loves me, he loves me not

And I am forever there
On that patch of weeds
Wanting so badly to pick flowers
instead of petals
To make plans, instead of wishes
Waiting for that letter
that says,
This is exactly what we are looking for.
Submission accepted.
We will be in touch with you soon.