Birthday Poem

I'm trying to imagine
what I should wish for
while blowing out
the candles on my cake this year.
I don't know why I do this.
Why I persist.
The upper air currents
blow me far afield
from these candles.
I wonder
where my wishes
are supposed to take me.
Whatever the me
I have become.
Candles in the sky, candles on the cake.
What about the breath
it takes to make
a wish that candles
never burn out?
I won't blow the candles out tonight.
I need shelter from the storm.
I need heat to keep me warm.
What should I wish for?
A card from some other valentine;
a gigantic love from some crazed romantic?
Or should my wishes be more sublime?
Like stopping time
and forward movement;
a return to youth
or self-improvement?

[September, 1999]