Poem: Sequel

Sequel

Before writing the sequel to my life this afternoon
I close the shutters, take off my wristwatch,
and draw up fresh ink into my fountain pen.
There will be a girl named Japonica
and a castle named Elsinore
and I find myself a different era
with the heft of crossbows and the ring of chainmail,
imagining the rumbling gallop and tossing manes
of Destiny or Legend or Lore, some farfetched abstract
so different than Mortgage or Benefits or Tuition.
I will wield a Sword of Virtue or Lance of Purity,
not this Checkbook of Numbers
or these Car Keys of Convenience.
Bereft of daydream, this world will have more
flavors of tea, more dances, more colors of roses.