Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Philip

The professor wonders

did she sign his death warrant

when she hired him,

to do the programming

for her research project

the luckiest day of his life, he believed.

seven, oh seven, seventy seven.

He was gorgeous, he was blond

with long fine hair always in his eyes,

with a beautiful slow smile, and

so tall he had to do splits

so they could look eye to eye,

a student from Australia, who could now stay

in America, a brilliant mathematician

and a creative musician who turned

his computer into an orchestra.

With the job he got a green card,

and at night enjoyed the excitement

of New York’s musical scene, hanging

out with the famous and the dangerous.

The programming he did for her

he did with such sophistication

she could not always follow his approach

but admired its elegance

and had but one complaint

he was always late,

yet they continued working together

for years, she fussing and fussing

to get it done, he smiling and promising

but she could never stay angry with him

for he did his work with brilliance

and he was gorgeous, his mind as rigorous

as his face was sweet, and she loved him

but was hard on him, and at one dueling meeting

she noticed he looked paler than usual

and his finger nails looked blue,

deathly blue, and that was the last time

they spoke for he died very quickly,

from a fever they said

but she knew its cause

and his lover the famous composer

whose music she never liked

she now disliked with a passion.

Peter Goodwin

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