For @Lucysfootball, On The Anniversary Of Her Birth

A poet's birthday is no common thing.
We're liable to react in strength, betimes.
And since we're paid (a pittance) for to sing
We're liable to react in strength, in rhymes.
But age is comforting: we've made it far
(Much further than we'd thought we would, perhaps)
If work's undone, we need to set the bar
Accordingly, is all. We'll take more naps,
Drink wine, eat ice cream, and approach our toils
Refreshed, ignoring voices in our heads
That scream "our time is fleeting," such as spoils
Our lines. But Amy knows, and never dreads
A natal day: she counts down, spazzes out
And blesses us at midnight with a shout!

In Which Ray Onativia Hits A Magic Number

Ray Onativia, as poets go,
You're prettier by far in face and verse.
You tear my heart quite often, as you know.
I am your Facebook fan, but it's far worse
That Twitter lets me stalk you. It's too fun
For me to stop; I love to watch you dwell
On matters light and weighty both in one
Small tweet or in a dense poetic knell.
Today you're 40, as I will be soon.
The coffee's sweeter, you tell us who are
Behind you on the calendar. The moon
Shines full this weekend just for you, dear; our
Best wishes for your birthday, dearest friend.
May you and I meet truly ere the end.