TOMORROW

my agent
will call
with news
that's good;
and my brother
will show-up
with magic numbers
on a lotto ticket;
& my heart
would not fail;
& my toes would grow
back & someone
would fall in love
with my words
and have to
take me
with them;
& my nose
would not get longer,
but my dick would,
& cigarettes
would rejuvenate,
not decimate;
and I'd be generous
with my own
stinginess &
those who doubt miracles
will marvel at what
their lies reveal...

and I would tell you more
but today
is very demanding
on my time:
work
food
eat
sleep;
it feels,
suspiciously,
a lot like
yesterday,
but, graciously,
has nothing to do,
with tomorrow.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015