This one is for my lovely wife, who does awesome projects like The Venns and Adventures in Menstruating
It's her birthday today.
Anyone who knows my wife knows she has a giant brain which goes in 20 directions at once at any one time. The words for this sestina were chosen by her.
I love you, honey. Happy Birthday.
She goes up to the bar and orders Jack
And Coke and then she laughs and flips her fringe
Aside. She's feeling far from halcyon
Her heavy backpack overflows with paper.
"The kids were mad today. Must be full moon.
I wish I hadn't come here on my bike.
I really shouldn't drink and ride my
But on a day like this I find a Jack
And Coke, sipped slowly, underneath the moon,
Helps me relax. Oh shit! I think my fringe
Needs cutting. Have you seen what's in the paper?
What beers are on? Have you got Halcyon?"
It's clear her mood is far from halcyon
She's like a paperboy who rides a bike
Through traffic when delivering the papers
Her conversation swerves as she hijacks
Her own thought train. She dances on the fringe
Of lunacy, so maybe it's the moon
Which sets her off. It couldn't be the moon...
Up there it seems benign and halcyon
But when it's full, those out there on the fringe
of sanity, do wobble on the bike-
Path of convention. Still, I don't know jack.
She's far from mad. She sits and reads the paper
And, in her head, prepares a research paper
And marvels at the beauty of the moon
Offers to buy a round and drains her Jack
And Coke; this time she wants a Halcyon.
Extolls the virtues of her folding bike
And phones the hairdresser's to get her fringe
Cut in the morning. Those out on the fringe
Who only see chaotic mounds of paper
And half formed thoughts of Shakespeare, haircuts, bike,
Might scorn her childlike joy when the full moon
shines down and makes her calm and halcyon
For those who call her hyper don't know jack.
Her folding bike, her cute and youthful fringe
Won't tell you jack. Ignore what's down on paper:
She's like the moon. Astounding, halcyon.