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
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.