by Myna Chang
She parks at the abandoned Texaco like she did on those long-ago Fridays, laughing with friends and counting the streetlights as they flickered to life against the prairie dusk—four lights on this side, four on that side—enough for the whole street, enough for a lifetime, she’d thought back then, each pool of illumination a possibility, a chance, a Main Street star taking wishes, making promises. She knows better now. Teenage wish-magic sparkles no longer than a falling star, a burning bulb, fading sooner than she could’ve imagined. She closes her eyes, lifts her face to the sodium sky.
“Wish Upon” originally appeared in Myna’s micro collection, The Potential of Radio and Rain (CutBank Books, 2023)
Such a poignant piece and on spot. ‘Teenage wish-magic sparkles no longer than a falling star, a burning bulb…’, true, and fortunate that we don’t realize this when we’re kids and sure anything is possible.
Thank you so much, Dawn!