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Showing posts from August, 2018

A Poet on Tinder

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Give me an old poet who would appreciate
what I am saying—who inspires me
by his lifetime of work and dream only
if we were the same age, what life
we would have had, what children would
have come out of our poetic forms.

Or give me some young, dapper fellow
who appreciates the Arts and me,
who understands the doldrums;
when to draw the curtains, when to
let light in, when to plan a party,
when to let me stand staring
at the tree in the yard while handing me
a cup of fresh brewed coffee
without breaking my meditation.

But no one like that exists in my world.
I learn to tilt my head just so
for a kinder response from the peanut gallery
who hum and haw, yawn and impugn
at my assumable carriage.  I go to book stores
and grocery stores and walk through
each aisle and question.  If I had enough time 

I’d go to the university and do the same
at the library in search for the university lecturer
who would gladly abide and amuse me
for a moment, disregarding youthful
co-ed beauties at bay just to have coffee
at the camp…