Some Additional Lines for Fortune Cookies

—after Frank O’Hara

Money will find you soon; it won’t be enough.
Wishes can be horses, but only if you feed and water them.
You will enjoy the best nap soon, a dream nap, a sleep deep and dream-free and restful as blue paint.
Kentucky may be green and lovely now, may have lower taxes than you have here, but it has Mitch McConnell and Rand Paul.
The deep state is deeper than anyone ever imagined, and, like the sloth, can survive on almost nothing.
Brave hearts accept death as the cost of life.
Punctuality is next to cleanliness in the hierarchy of virtues.
The cards will dance for you in choreography of straights and flushes, but not when you expect or to the music you like.
Finish. Quality matters less than completion.
Applesauce in its blended perfection will keep the doctor away and does not require strong teeth.
Dim light can soften lines and wrinkles better than hyaluronic acid.
Particle physics and symbolic math will elude you; embrace instead the inexactitude of English or history.
Senators argue over your uterus and what you can and cannot do with it or whether you can have a penis of your own.
Grandmother loves you (and Grandfather, too); call them, or, better, visit them when they do not expect it.
The red flare of orgasm need not be restricted to between the sheets in bed.
Your waitperson will not remember your name or think about your smile after they go home and put their feet up and fret about the cost of their son’s broken glasses.

Cecil Morris, a retired English teacher, writes his poetry mainly in California, where he lives with an indulgent partner, the mother of their children. He has poems appearing in 2River View, Cobalt Review, Ekphrastic Review, Evening Street Review, Hole in the Head Review, Midwest Quarterly, and other literary magazines.