Whitman,
what have you done
to leave an echo
of eagerness
to be fresh
and eaten up
and devastated by wonder

you wear helmets
ball caps
and bonnets
and you answer phones
and take orders
and work as a crossing guard

you are a bear balancing on a circus ball
still smelling of the wild
and fearful places
that get covered in snow

you’re a night watchmen pacing the fence
with a transistor radio
and in the winter
you sit in your car
to warm-up
between the rounds

it’s you, Walt
living pay check to pay check
boiling corn
and before you are your neighbors
the stars

watching the world unfold
like a flower
suits you very well
and you are also that suiting
you Walt, rant

l a-ro