I think I've professed my love for Dallas Clayton here before, but his most recent poem tugged on my strings a little harder than usual. As a notorious wisher-on-all-wishable-things, I'll just pretend this was written just for me:
I’d like a study done on ratios of wishes being made
to wishes being granted
and which god turns up more victories for the wisher:
The clock turning 11:11,
Whichever is proven the most reliable
will be given a moment to rest
and give the others a chance to catch up.
Spread it around a bit so all the wishes don’t get spent
the same as fossil fuels.
- Dallas Clayton