The Man Who Wished on All the Wrong Things

I’ve wished a hundred thousand
stars -
taillights
on passing cars

On bottle caps
and flickered glows
through window panes
of TV shows

On broken bits
of cookie crumbs
and salt I rubbed
off of my thumbs

On eggshells
and neckbones
and bluebells
and headstones

On pennies dropped
through sewer grates
and signs that welcomed
me to states

and tears I wiped
onto my sleeves
and mission bells
and maple leaves;

I mailed them to
the wrong address
without a stamp –
they’re lost I guess

But now and then I wonder
when I wished ‘em, where they went
and if they’re as sad as I am
that their magic got misspent.