Cheesecake

If I went to see the Wizard
I'd ask him to give me a future.
Some guys would ask for a heart;
I'm not really in the market.
I mean, mine's pretty over-
developed as it is, and ends up
just bleeding everywhere. It's
not pretty. Others, I hear, might
ask for a better brain, or even
for the power of courage. Again,
I just don't really find I'm in
need of such things. Okay, my
brain is a bit of a wild card, but
I've grown accustomed to its ways.
Yes, maybe some courage in me
would do everyone around me
some good. I just can't help
but feel that if I, if we, had a future
we could count on, a likable,
peaceful, just future, a future
with ocean fish and wild places,
with wonder to spare, and magic,
we'd all have more courage
as a matter of course, courage
to face the ugliest things,
courage to front our fears,
courage to love unconditionally.
With no more north pole,
with no more fishing off a pier,
with no more unsullied
innocence, what will our
futures be like? Will we even
have them? Well, that's what
I'd ask the wizard for, for
the world not to come to an end.
Difficult as it can be sometimes,
I've grown really attached to
being alive, to all of you
around me, to the uncertainty
any given day brings with it,
the unpredictable, the sad and
the glad alike. I wouldn't be
asking for all that much, really.
And, well, the Wizard himself
must be desiring of a future too.
His world is our world, right?
At least that's what I've been
led to believe. But, to be
honest, I'm not even so sure
there is a Wizard. Really.
I mean, what sort of wicked
magician would leave us to
explain Paris Hilton to our
children, or Dan Quayle, or
worse yet, phone sex. Frankly,
no wizards I know would leave
mere mortals to explain away
the end of the world. Not that
any of them would know
the end of the world from a
cheesecake. In the end, that
will probably be the best way
to comfort the kids: obfuscation,
confusion, and avoidance. "Oh,
the death of the sea? Never you
mind, now, sweetie. More cheesecake?"

(2006)