There was once a girl I knew,

Charlotte Stoker I think it was,

And she was

The most frustrating person in school.

The perfect student,

The model scholar,

A grand example of controlling disorders

Like bulimia

And, or,


Because none of the guys

Wished to,

Wanted to,

Date her.

But she could tell you,

The year Marx wrote

His Manifesto;

The difference between,



Anaerobic bacteria.

How π,

Is the number

Of the Universe.

The reason why,

Hemingway's characters

Drank too much.

She thought she was faultless,

God's Angel sent on metaphoric wings,

To rid the world of plague and hunger

With her perfect GPA.

I remember a chilled mid-December day,

When I walked down the stairs

And into the kitchen,

Where my father sat reading

The Morning Star

And drinking a cup

Of fresh brewed coffee.

Without looking at me,

He talked in his sonorous voice,

"Did you know a Charlotte Stoker?

Apparently she died last night,

In a car crash, going to

A restaurant to celebrate

Her birthday."

And I could not help but smile,

At the irony of dying on your birthday.