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Cup, Runneth Over

Two roads diverge here, or three, or
say certain wild-eyed scientists
infinite roads. Whatever.
When you reach
an intersection, slow down.
Avoid the fate of rushing.

One day, sooner, later, Too Much
comes to every one shaped
as time or romance, money or quiet,
or even zucchini and black-eyed Susans.
When abundance beyond measure begins
to be burden not blessing, you have arrived.

Choose your road, now. At least one is
clearly labeled so those with bounty
held tight piled high can see the sign over
the top of their treasure, the signpost
pointing to the country of the haunted
the whole place called
Be Careful What You Wish For.

Oh, take your time here
at the crossroad. Open your arms.
Hand flowers and romance and vegetables
to all the others on these roads.
Choose another way.

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