One

Sent to Sally a few years ago, for her birthday.

My back is Argus-eyed.

I live in danger.

False shadows turn to track me as I pass

and, wearing beards, disguised as secret agents,
creep in to blot the freshly written page

and read the blotter in the looking glass.

And in the dark, under my bedroom window,
until, with a chill whirr and shiver, day
presses its starter,

warily they linger
or silently approach the door and ring
the bell of memory and run away

-Vladimir Nabokov

may you be reminded of many wonderful things you almost forgot, and have a happy birthday.

many happy returns!