...written as though by Mr. Sark...
For Michael: A Best Man's Toast
CHILLICOTHE, OHIO - The occasion
on which I choose to share
in your joy.
This joy, hopelessly bourgeois;
bridal gown off-the-rack,
bought at a local warehouse,
knock-off filled, in Cincinnati.
The groom's suit, a rental,
another happy couple's dreams
still caught amongst the weave
of the back-less, adjustable vest.
I passed the Registry, avoided
the pretty child assigned to watch
the book, downy white feather
pen aflutter with well-wishing.
The cleric paused in required request
for objections, and moments passed
when I thought to protest
on Her behalf. To decry
silk flower arrangements,
unruly ringbearers, and
indulgent, self-written vows.
Words hollow, devotion
fleeting
as rice's flight.
And as you take
your lady-wife's new-ringed
hand in couple's waltz,
I have nearly enough
bulk-rate sold champagne left
to salute this union.
This desire lasts only the narrow space
of lid's blinking, but in it I see a
different day which passed
you by, in which 'twas my-
self objected, with prejudicial
force, your choice of
mate; slender, perfect,
Her happiness a
knowledge now unknown.
Her deadly lovely hand
cake-less, wherever it now
resides.
This grotesque revel,
Your denial of Love,
lasts beyond night five-hundred eight
and well into dawn, but I
depart, leaving a gift, its card
signed in my Christian name;
For you, Michael, a toaster--
unobtrusive, unworthy of hate,
and notoriously fickle.
Disclaimer: This work is not affiliated in any way with the ABC spy series Alias, or, for that matter, Mr. Sark, whose poetry--until such time as he wishes to make it public--remains unsung, unfeted, and largely unknown.
by: Neftzer 2003 (c)
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From my website, Mr. Sark Writes Loves Poetry royaltoby.com / alias / sark.html