For Cynthia

Cynthia, Cynthis, you are an enigma, a synthesis of many things, a staple on the mind of those you impress—take Freddy for instance, who saw a typewriter poet and asked for words clicked and clacked on a page on your behalf—He said you're a Physician's Assistant, but somehow I think you're the real Oz (the wizard mot the guy on the show), pulling the strings from behind the scenes, and somehow still on the front line, making saving look easy with all your storied tattoos, and after all this, you come home to your most handsome man, the sweet Mr. Higgs, as lucky a poodle as poodle can be... Cynthia, Cynthia, you make quite the impression—look how you've covered the page in ink like your skin from afar.