Please

Please: a word so short it could hitchhike

on a dragonfly's wing, buzzing its way heavenward,

hoping to fit into God's busy schedule. It wears a little suit,

politely knocking on celestial doors, leaving tiny notes

under stars. When ignored, it pirouettes back

like a rejected boomerang, morphs into awkward

hailstones, pelting the forgetful trees, nudging

earthworms awake. It lingers in shadowy puddles,

invites itself into gutters, mingling with strays.

And here you are, trudging through this damp parade,

every day a new baptism in absurdity.