It’s not really a lamp.more of an urn,but it’s old,its body egg-shaped,its neck pencil-narrow.  No doubt somegenie is imprisoned within. But I’m reluctant to rub it.I know what happens.That Jinn emerges,promises to fulfill three wishes but tricks me, in my eagerness,to say the wrong thing,turn my requests back on myself,as it loudly laughs its way to freedom. I’ve no need for greedthat oversteps its bounds,desires that masquerades as wants,dreams … Continue reading The Genie and I by John Grey