I saw him sitting there, typing away,
look of concentration under his hair, focusing.
You could tell he was a "poet for hire."
Anyone walking by could see him;
had a group of women gathered 'round
and wearing something vaudevillian.
My poetry teacher in college would say
if you could work hard there,
poems would be made, perhaps not done,
but still, they'd come, and the work would show,
if you worked at the writing -- Plus, Poetry's Fun!
Just like you and you're boys and girls
eating that pizza -- pizza Sicilian.
But flouting poetry's sort of "Agatha Christie" reputation
I'd point to the dictionary thesaurus book station
He had I'm not sure, but yes it was classic,
The old school writer that he clinked with --
with the old school classic type writer he clinked with--
Makes it much nicer for the moment of grace;
What would you write for a girl on the street?
The typewriter you meet -- a chance in a billion --
I gave pause for a second, I'd give money for millions.
