I WISH A MUTHA WOULD

Art by Jordan Casteel

I started by wishing him well but ended wishing I killed him.

All of them actually. They called me all sorts of names. Imagine that. These well-wishers. happily tossing money but cursing those they see take it.

One guy in particular, looked as if he was full of war. Maybe one day I will eat that good. That was one of my wishes.

The deep grooves in his head looked like a freshly plotted cemetery. He knew where the bodies were hidden. He pointed at me with both hands as if I was the target.

‘This is a wishing well you…’ He allowed the on-lookers to finish his sentence, whipping fists full of coin, candy, and shoes.

I knew people paid to end lives, and clasped my hands in prayer, then rubbed my face, neck, and arms with water so they wouldn’t have a clear patch of skin to tattoo their curses.

But this guy… He was dressed smart, in what I imagine an ivy league professor to wear. Leather man purse. I think the pants are called tweed. A white bow tie, and dark shirt.

He looked younger than I imagined a professor to be, in spite of his manicured beard speckled with grey. I think it was the Viking strip mounted on his head that made me question his age. Maybe he was too old to still really fight for something other than harassing… Well… Nobody ever seems too age out of that.

Standing knee deep, picking up coins, soaked. Splashing intruders.

I thought:

‘I’m getting paid for cleaning, so why is everyone so mad?’

I knew I could mop him up. The stringy fingers of his supporters slid him to safety before I drowned him in blood.

I wasn’t so lucky. I laid stiff and cold as the coins in the well from their pushes and lashes.

‘You are disrespecting peoples wishes.’ He yelled.

I was glad he didn’t say prayers. cause, then, I might’of really tried to kill him. Everybody knows prayers are free. That’s really what wishes are anyway.

Right now, all I want is to see tomorrow.