150 years ago the Civil War had just begun;
Halfway in time ‘twixt then and now Gone With the Wind began its run
(In novel form, that is; it took three years for Scarlett to appear
Upon the screen where most have seen her…but that’s not important here).
Three dollars was the cover price of Margaret Mitchell’s first edition,
Cheap today, but then ’twas way beyond most books’ prix fixe tradition.
Nonetheless, it met success: a million sold by New Year’s Eve,
And won the next year’s Pulitzer for fiction, so I can’t believe
That I, an English major, never finished it. Ms. Mitchell, ma’am,
Can you forgive me? [Ghostly answer: “My dear, I don’t give a damn!”]
How do I love cheese? Let me count the wheys.
I love cheese orange, yellow, blue or white,
On hot dogs which I carelessly ignite
In backyard stacks of apple sticks ablaze
Inside a fire pit on summer days.
I love cheese toasted on a slice of white
Unwholesome bread in butter fried, despite
The dictates of the healthy cooking craze.
I love cheese sprayed from cans of aerosol
Or strung in sticks, washed down with cold V-8,
In plastic squares, rolled up into a ball,
Or sliced triangularly on a plate.
As much as I hate bad cholesterol,
I love good cheese, and Good shall conquer Hate.
Today’s one of two perfect dates in the year;
The first one’s been done but the second one’s here!
Numeric perfection’s achieved through slick tricks
Like the fact that 1, 2 and 3 add up to 6.
Since (not counting 6) those are all its divisors,
6 is deemed “perfect,” like actors’ incisors.
6 June, or 6/6, then, is perfect times two,
And the next perfect date is…? You know this. You do!
Denial’s a thing up with which we’ll not put:
28, as is 6, is a sum aliquot,
Which means all its non-negative factors–not counting
The number itself–to that number are mounting.
Consider these facts, and you’ll see what I mean:
28 is the product of 2 and 14;
It’s likewise what 7 times 4 will produce;
Also 1 twenty-eight, but the latter’s no use
Since the number itself is off limits. Ergo,
Add the five other factors together and…whoa!
Fourteen plus two, plus a seven and four,
Plus a one gets us back to today’s date once more!
If that’s not perfection, I don’t know what is!
Now, please close your books. There will be a short quiz.
Summer blossoms aren’t my friends
And vast green vistas make me cry
If pollen-swollen sneezing ends
I’ll weep…if I can find my eye
Eager leaping sitting high
Astride red soft forbidden sofa
Licking chewing masticates anew
Out of breath
Come, ye interlopers! Test my eye!
Was that– no, never
None would try
Impregning the impregnable
This spywatched eyewatched yard
Of mine and thine
Prone or supine
Swiftly snapping fly that idles by
The concrete riverwalk
Whose traffic ever tacks
To farther shore
So soft her snore
Wagging wanting wishing
Proudly posing prone no more
The flies — ignore
The wanderers — implore
Quickly! Meet me! Greet me! Come ahead
And tread my grassy bed
And touch my head
I rapture in your wafts of coffee store
And sweetly fruited treat
Scary badgers fear
Eighties synth-pop cover bands
Grandpa in The Princess Bride
Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World’s cabbie
Arkin’s In-Law(s): “Serpentine!”
Plus Columbo? Not too shabby.