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12-21-07

I’m going to start calling you Kai, for I’m all but certain that is your name. The other candidates, Slater, Elijah, and True, just don’t work. Slater’s a bit too wannabe surf grommit. Elijah is too bible shepherd, and True, well, that’s just pure shaggy California hippie. We both like the rhythm of one syllable followed by two syllables – Kai Sheldon. Unique. Sharp. Sure.

The sonogram showed nice little meaty crinkles along your side from your arms to your waist. Four pounds, fifteen ounces … with rolls of fat. You have undeniable substance to be sure…but it’s the rolls of fat that excite me. They give you snugglability and “babyness” and prove there’s a healthy growing boy there, someone to squeeze. Someone to talk about. Someone named Kai Gallant Sheldon. 

Landing on your name is a big step for me, for words are favorite toys of mine. Speak eloquently and it’s Christmas every day in my world. I read dictionaries for pleasure and get a runner’s high from a seven letter word in Scrabble. I’ve played with words for as long as I can remember and wrote my first poem as a little boy. Wrote it for your grandmother, in fact, when I was still in Toughskins and PF Flyers:

I love my mother

She is nice

And I know

That she likes rice

Sometimes she loves me

Good and bad

But she is my mother

That’s why I’m glad

 

Perhaps you will be a poet too. I hope so, for good poets provide answers, and the world is currently long on questions. The page is blank for you, so say whatever the hell you want. Just say it with power and verve. A glide in your stride and a dip in your hip. Here’s a poem I just wrote for you. Think of this the next time you pick up your pen or step to a microphone.  

 

 

SNAP!

 

 

Bring more SNAP

 

Mister Open Mike

Don’t ask us questions

TELL US THINGS

We don’t know

Or things we do

Just told different

Than we’ve heard before

 

Bring some THWACK

And hit me twixt

My bloodshot eyes

Where my thirst begins

Bring knowledge

From college

Or otherwise

Don’t care where you got it

Just that you BROUGHT it

 

So bring it Mister

Be like Mike

Slam dunk your voice

To the back of the room

To the front of my face

Make me care

Cause usually I don’t

 

Serve me

Nothing tepid

No one wants soup

That aint hot

Bring it till it’s brought

By the cup or the bowl

Steaming hot

With a fresh baked roll

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