genie in a bottle

you can ask for more wishes. you can
rub every bottle in the house until it laughs. 
you can travel in the desert 
for years just to reach a stone. 
humans are not the only creatures
who have the concept of a wish.
the birds too, dip their beaks into the sky.
skim off the cream. hear the giants 
in the thunder. their boiling bones.
the story of the genie in the bottle is believed
to have come from a story of a demon
in a stone. the stone was black. probably obsidian.
museum locked, my partner & i look
at knives cut from the same rock. 
our reflections are birds in their mirrors.
all the flesh on both sides of a tool.
in the gutted house, we look for an allen wrench.
none of our friends know what that is.
the year is over & i have not wished enough
or i have wished too much. i can never tell. 
the neighborhood cats are wishing
on the moving truck. they rub the sides
with their cheeks. snow comes like
wedding rice. the story of the stone is
a cautionary tale. of what i am no longer sure.
i like to think i am better than a parable
but who would not touch such a structure
in the thirsty nowhere? the desert is endless. 
will drown you in dust. we all barter. 
his stone is cool to the touch despite 
the hammering sun. despite the color. 
on the other side, the demon, asmodeus, 
tells me to let him free. you can even ask
for more wishes. the lanternflies on hamilton street 
coax a demon from the shiny buildings. wish for
home. i am a third-generation hoarder.
i keep the wishes. i keep the lamp.
even keep the stone.