Travis Splatt Turns Six

And it’s a fair bet your name
will never be the name on everyone’s lips,
but how rightly its shape may sit in the curves
of who knows how many authentic smiles
Other names ringed — wrung? — with auras
of fame, of fashion, of magnetism, of prestige
are doomed to excite (like a foregone conclusion)
interest; yours, being “shapeless” in so many ways,
escapes that fate — so become as you please
to the bent of your inspiration.
Perhaps, now, you are raised to the raising of eyebrows,
still too young to get the begetting of your joke,
and so I wish you strength, Travis — how old
you will have to be to know
no snigger can ever remove your right
to laugh in your name at the world.
In the long run, as you crawl past the legs of Notice,
what matters are which stray dreams choose you
as their caretaker. Hopefully (I hope) heartfelt ones,
whose bottomless sun-beaming joy
melts off the plate like butter or chocolate or ice-cream
that never-ending line-up of po-faced boys and girls.