walt whitman

i dropped a quarter in walt whitman’s cup
out front of the serv-rite

hey thanks man, he said biting into his
sandwich, slumped against the wall—

what’re you irish – irish is good people,
man, good people – you irish, aint ya

nah man, i’m american, i said, walking
away

well, yr still irish - did you hear me – yr
still irish! he called painfully spitting down

the street again, offended, apparently
not walt whitman, not walt whitman