It was a theory on how to have one’s druthers
which I thought up as I buttered a scone –
how to make good on the intentions of others
and dress them up and down as if they were my own.
I thought, “It would be more than possible,
if one could only muster the resolution,
to allow them, in all their contrariety,
to compose their own figure, to jostle
them, coax them into order amid confusion.
It would require patience, restraint and piety.”
Suddenly they took on human faces,
withdrew laughing into invisible spaces,
leaving behind the sentiment, as they flew away,
epitomized for us by Doris Day:
Que sera, sera! Whatever will be will be!
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