Madysyn Amandalynn 2

The Girl From Scottsdale

The second part of a longer poem I’m working on. Romance in the Bay Area. You can read the first part here.

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II

The tide goes in, the tide goes out.
The flood returns with providence, the ebb
draws back the veil, and in foam it vanishes.
Breakers chase down the jagged rocks, sometimes
sped to their ruin by fair, sometimes foul winds.
Sometimes the sea, bountiful, gives back
more of itself, sometimes to this pool, or that.

The Bay Area was at that time bountiful
with the flotsam deposited by the ocean,
the heavensent nutrients, an influx of capital,
all the resources of the market. San Francisco
was full of new opportunities, new growth,
new talent. And into such riches she moved in,
the hero of our story, Madysyn Amandalynn.

She had a safety net twelve hours away
at home in scenic Scottsdale. Her mother was
a third grade teacher, her dad a well-liked orthodontist.
In high school she was senior vice president,
and voted most gracious nominee at winterfest.
Earnest, smiling, hardworking, honest.
Pretty, kind, smart, ambitious.

Her parents taught her never to give up, 
and to always try her best. Naturally she rose
to the top of her class, and was always better
than the lower eightyfive percent. She was in
the gifted and talented program, and took,
as an upperclassmen, mostly all AP. 
She lived for golf and handsome boys with acne.

She did the Wellness club, played flute in band.
She cheated, once, on Michael, and a test,
and never quite forgave herself. But that was
a different time in her life, and she had long since
left that land. Prom was fun, but all good things
must come to an end. By graduation she had
a brand new car, and it was time to move on.

She went to TAMU for the Rush
and earned a bid her freshman year.
Get-ready-with-me’s, Outfits Of The Day.
Here’s what she wore on a Wednesday:
Lulu, Lulu, heels from Golden Goose,
Rolex, David Yurman, Louis, Hermes,
and button earrings from Toulouse.

She dated polos who sipped carbless beer,
rarely drank, and always got good grades.
She was studying for polysci in the commons
when she met the love of her life one day.
She’d never cried confused tears as much as when
he left her, nor was as ruined realizing after
how he’d slept with Dakota, her best friend.

But that was in the past. All of that was then.
She was in the City making good money
as a product designer in online fashion.
She’d just been called in by her bosses
to the conference room at the end of the office,
beyond the table tennis tables. There,
waiting for her, was a healthy promotion.

They said in unison, “We love the work
you’ve been doing lately, Madysyn.”
“You get along with everybody.” “It’s so
important, here, that everyone fit in.”
“We love what you did at the last standup.”
“We love that kind of initiative.” “And since!”
“Bravo, the whole onboarding experience!”

They asked her what she wanted out of her
career. She said she wouldn’t mind sitting
where they were sitting, making six figures
a year. They laughed. They nodded along,
and said her attitude was great. They offered
to move her from designer to PM—and with
a handsome raise—She said she couldn’t wait.

Expectation so plotted her resolve
she hadn’t thought to ask about her new job.
Only the ascent, the next step, lay ahead
like a burning image. She would take it
wherever it led. Fourteen months of grind
to end up seemingly nowhere, suddenly,
to her mind, was answered like a prayer.

“What’s the product?” she asked, after realizing
she hadn’t. Her bosses glanced at one another.
“It’s actually part of a brand new department.”
“AI is big. We need to stay ahead of the game.”
“If we don’t use it, our customers will buy clothes
from someone else who does.” “There’s no name.”
“That’s your job.” “Give it something with a buzz!”