Dear Billy Collins,
It’s so often I’m hunting for
inspiration, and I search
through videos, perhaps an article,
or maybe even perchance for a live
concert of some local high school performing
a semi-watered down version of Mahler
listed in the News Paper.
And tonight is no different
as I sniff around your books
you seem to say everything
there is to be said about
nothing and in turn
everything: neighbors, dogs
barking, past cigarettes, Budapest, a trip
not taken, or even
those damn salt and pepper shakers
sitting on the kitchen table.
and Yes, Dr. Collins– may I call
you Billy (Probably not)– I
was jealous that you wrote
about those “shakers of
salt and pepper that
were standing side by side
on the place mat.” I had noticed
them too, but (as you wrote) you did
write about them first.
I guess jealousy and envy
can only go so far because
as I read you my mouth
slightly falls open dumbstruck,
and I realize I am no longer
searching for inspiration,
only ways to steal from you
the way aspiring poets
steal from everyone else;
even idea of thievery
was taken from your child-
hood and possibly adult days of copying
Lawrence Ferlinghetti and,
I believe
many others.
~just in case you’ve never read Billy Collins:
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=6479
