Reconteur of reconteurs, astronomer of the coffee grounds,
wizard of the center table, potter to the stars, scientific boy genius
in the body of an old man, giant of the big ideas, speeding hedge apple
to the windshield of complicity, treader of the library’s holdings
most likely to be misfiled backwards on a bottom shelf,
lingerer supreme of the end-of-parties, shooting star across
the living room, emperor-of-all-time of the kitchen counter,
ecstatic heaven-dwelling booster of the dancing daughter,
better-than-Martha-Stewart-made centerpiece of the coffee clutch,
memory of the Merc, gossip filterer of most chiming surprises
right here in River City, advancer of the questions, answerer
of the conjunctions between a 1967 Topeka conversation in a
gas station and Mars land rover evolution 40 years from now,
russler of the big conversation that curves into quantum physics
and longest-lasting sandal debates, constellation-curio of
rooftops and barbecues involving homemade fireworks
and piles of telescopes, anthropologist from Mars who made us
believe we are and have always been Martians, human developer
of the darkroom you didn’t know was in your basement, formulator
of the life-saving formulas, chess deviant of the late afternoon, prover
of how you-don’t-have-to-be-a-rocket-scientist-but-it-helps-if-you-are,
lover of the stories told in canoes, on dance floors and over tofu gumbo,
sling-carrier of the glorious offspring, romancer and lucky recipient
of days and nights with Ruth, element-reader of the waltzing prairie,
Lord of the winged tale involving a road not on any maps, groom
of gratitude, devotee of the three-legged family, distractor of anything
linear or expected, night sky dreamer of the daring.
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