I keep making wishes

Throwing coins into the fountains I pass

But my coins are made of paper

Quick to dissolve

Like my hopes for anything

To come my way

Yet I still do this

My trail can followed by the bits of crumpled paper

That fall from my pockets

I keep thinking

That by some magic of transubstantiation

My coins will become metal when they hit the water

Finally becoming permanent and suitable payment

To any of the fates who might be listening

To a guardian angel who has a soft spot for hard cases like me

To any devil who is short on deals for the month

Just anyone

Who can grant this wish