Fargo, Esq.

Fargo sails the high seas

Of tented sheets across my knees.

There he swoops and spills

Along linty waves

Avoiding the threatening shadow

Of a furry shark

Named Nicholas.

Out with his cutlass

And he is battling his way to freedom.

Suddenly scaling Mt Dresser.

Suddenly zip lining expertly along the blinds.

I could always count on Fargo to do things expertly.

– – –

No matter where his trip

He always landed on his ship.

Always with a smile

And a nod to Barbie in the corner.

But Fargo’s true love was the sky

And the apple of his eye

His next adventure.

Like a troubadour he’d give a wink.

Like a gentleman he’d tip his hat and go.

I could always count on Fargo to be a gentleman.

– – –

The afternoon gets old

From downstairs I’d be told

To pick up and come down for dinner.

So I’d gather Fargo

And hide him in my favorite stories

My reservoir of hidden memories.

I’d say his name out loud

So it might occupy some space

And there grow cold.

“Fargo, Esquire,” he would scold.

Fargo was a small name for a small life

His mother always dreamt of small lives.

The Esquire meant his life had gotten very big.

I could always count on Fargo to live very big.

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