I keep a treasure chest
with nothing in it
to remind me that things
that seem too good to be true
often are.
But it doesn’t work.
I often lay awake at night
wonder what could
be inside
it:
open bar
at a Russian wedding,
a loving sea goddess
with gills
instead of shortcomings,
the fountain of youth
built to scale,
a Babe Ruth rookie
in mint
condition…

I’m a romantic, I’ll admit it,
bordering on the
delusional.

I know there should be
nothing in there
but that never stops me
from looking.