Their Given Name Was Robin

Their given name was Robin

Robin Goodfellow,

But for whatever reason

We all called them Puck.

They were a strange kid

You know, that kid

Who always gave the legalistic,

Witty,

Work-around answers in their classes—

Yet they showed a strange loyalty

To their professors,

Instantly doing whatever was asked of them,

Though not always doing it very well.

Class clown, deviant

It was never quite clear what year they were

They never gave a straight answer,

As far as I could tell

They had been at college forever

And would remain forever,

Never aging,

Never changing,

Too busy being independent

To be responsible;

Too busy living

To build a life.

But boy, did they know how to live.

Everyone watched Puck closely

As April Fool’s day came near;

We all wanted to see

Exactly what

This master of pranks would do next.

We’d all heard the tales

Of that one, legendary year

Which no one could ever

Really seem to explain;

How that one kid woke up with a donkey’s head

(Rubber? Face paint? Magic? No one knew)

How the prom queen, most popular girl fell

Head-over-heels for him

And then came to her senses

By the end of the day

And whatever was going on

With those two couples

Chasing each other all ‘round campus

Never quite clear who really loved whom

But we all knew

That they emerged happy and different,

Paired off as peacefully

As anyone could imagine.

And we also knew

That Puck was somehow behind it all.

They never could top that.

They knew how to dance

With such wild abandon.

They brought us to clubs

Organized on-campus parties

That were weird and wild

And strangely, somehow, beautiful.

Some nights, they could be seen

Perched at the top of the tallest tree

In the woods around campus,

Still and quiet

And watching the moon.

They ran barefoot through the forest

During the day;

Or they napped in trees

Or messed around with flowers;

Somewhere between chemist

And botanist,

They made weird things with those plants.

It was never quite clear

To those in the science department

Whether they were a genius

Or an idiot.

We all loved Puck

No one could ever really get close,

And they were so hard to understand

Even without trying—

As they seemed to—

To maintain an air of mystery.

But we loved Puck

They made us laugh

They screwed up sometimes,

But always managed to fix it.

Their music, when they sang,

Was haunting, inimitable, beautiful

Enchanting, spellbinding

(I always wondered

Just how literally I meant that).

They were a fixture of the school

Inseparable from the campus

And the forest surrounding it.

We couldn’t understand

Life there without Puck around

And we never needed to,

As four years came and went

One by one, we left

Some stayed a bit longer

But each of us eventually graduated,

Dropped out or transferred;

We found lives

Moved on

And left Puck behind.

I wonder what became of them.

I wonder if they can still be found

Sleeping in the trees,

Anxiously obeying

And constantly disrespecting

The professors,

Maintaining their title

As Ruler of Pranks,

And singing Time itself to sleep.

And if I ever went back,

I wonder, would Puck be there?

Would they remember me

Or are the faces of us mortals

To them as similar

And insignificant

As the leaves of trees?

Their given name was Robin

And they were as young as a spring bird

As unmovable as an ancient tree

Unchanging, eternal

Youthful, childish

Loyal, yet never submissive.

We called them Puck

And somehow, I believe that they remain

Long after the rest of us

Are gone.