Nobody puts on birthday parties for me (and with good reason) but it is my policy to be prepared for unlikely contingencies. Here is an invitation poem for a celebration of the 68th anniversary of my birth should the occasion arise.
Aged twenty-four or sixty-eight, Who is it we appreciate? Who validate and venerate? The one with nothing on his pate, Who takes as furniture a crate, Whose social skills are second-rate But still finds ways to educate. His life and age we'll punctuate. His past success we'll celebrate, His future hopes exaggerate. Friend, colleague, or old schoolmate! Your appetite we aim to sate While half his life we'll fabricate And any failures understate. Don't hesitate or vacillate! We'll gather but we won't stay late; We promise we'll all leave by eight. While those who really know him well On limpid waters gently sail And listen deeply to a tale Of fireflies flashing in the dale.
January 2, 2020