It's Hard to Maintain Snarky Self-Commentary When You Feel Quite at Home. But I'll Try.

Today, I tasted the first strawberry of the year.
Vivianno and Giovanna told me to think of my one desire,
and the good fortune of this tiny, delicious fruit -
the size of my thumb nail and sweeter than cane -
would make it come true.

Just-ripened berries.
My greatest desire: granted.

When I return to the United States,
I won't have a job.
Love has not been without ill will or irony
for a long time.
And I have never had money.
Any money.

But I couldn't think of a single wish
in this paradise of biodiversity.

Damn! I should have wished for all the manly specimens
of peacocks, geese, and roosters
to calm their calls,
the persistent "my-arm"
and "honk-honk"
and "cock-a-doodle-doo,"
from the hours of midnight through eight in the morning.

Or, more realistically,
earplugs.