love ya, mean it

i hope you find a dollar bill today
(twenty bucks, or ten)
i hope you find your mind clearheaded and wouldn't refuse a-waking again

i hope your friends all miss you
(but not too much, you see)
i hope you're fondly thought of, just as you fondly think of me

i hope your sweaters stay unholey
i hope your cucumbers never go bad
i hope your favorite five-foot person hugs you tight when you're feeling sad

these are timeless benedictions for fools of all ages
for distant kinfolk as well as those you've never met
these are component parts of a caring clearly boundless, without reservation, and yet

it's murky, in my mind
what do i say to a soul like you?
is there etiquette to specialness, something specific i should do?

i really mean it, about the cucumbers
and about your brain growing mold
i really don't like thinking about my best friends getting old

i don't hope you live forever, because most people, at some point, want to die

but there is one thing, just as much a universal:

i hope i never make you cry.