What Wanda Wants...

Fun Gift Unit
a poem for Wanda

Something there is that is hopeful here
that moment that my friend describes as “the sure thing”
when someone’s eyes are aglitter with “tonight.”

That’s fun gift unit or the bright, buoyant whimsy
of beach balls against an infinite summer.
If the fun gift unit be a city, it be a city for lollygagging

for mayhem and merriment. The fun gift unit
is a place all shining with yeses. The brooders
pass through and the fun gift uniters find themselves

here, where the weather is a bubblemachine set to always,
and the rainfall is emitted from green and orange plastic
squirtguns. At the Fun Gift Unit Café, they serve nonstop

hot chocolate with mandatory whipped cream. Even a maraschino
cherry stopping in at the Fun Gift Unit Saloon
feels needed again where someone is always ordering a Shirley Temple.

Even anagrammed, there’s a fungi fun tit or a fig tuft I nun
I nun, you nun we all nun a fig tuft?
And who doesn’t benefit, Wanda?

Even my hopeful friend of the last stanza chimes in
Can I watch? Watch away, Friend, the fun gift unit
keeps giving and giving. Add guns and gin, tiff and guff and the fun

fun gift unit is rolling like a dunebuggy to the next sandbar of eternal frolicking.
It’s hard to frolic in a poem but not so on the fun gift unit where frolic
is the default. What’s hard to construct are phrases like fun gift unit

of our discontent, or it was the best of fun gift units the worst
of fun gift units. While ask not what your fun gift unit can do for you,
ask what you can do for your fun gift unit sounds somehow right.