An age

My son has a marvelous habit of telling

 

strangers that this very day is his birthday

and they, confused, can’t fathom the truth

 

but trust his nodding smile, congratulate

the rascal on reaching a mighty fine age

although sometimes they do seem surprised by the notion

 

that a boy so strange and acting childlike

could be ‘eighteen!’ but if you reckon

that every day is a birthday, he’s actually

at an age over six thousand and five hundred;

 

older than anyone else on the planet

(that is, according to conventional wisdom).

So he had a chat with Socrates,

shared a drink with an under-aged Jesus,

bounced in a chariot with Boedacia

 

and learnt his marvelous habits from Merlin;

like telling stories, beading the eye,

smiling, messing. challenging, pushing,

being himself, parading the fool

and testing whether magic is happening:

my son has a marvelous habit of telling.