He made a tribute to himself out of a stepladder and lawn ornament
and a wilted space about which once was leafy, and was once bright
The general thrust of if was adequate in his own eye but
only the dawdlers and hangers-on would stumble up to meet it
A woman he admired did not loiter at the tribute,
But she did crush a cigarette with a canvas sneaker
while she moved her bag to the other shoulder
and pulled her chained dog closer to her
as if to tell it not to meet him in the eye-
or to even let it read the commemorative plaque:
My ideas of late like the flight of an iron pig
day-to-day speech patterns
chipping cement and leaving rust stains
and crushing the feet of passers-by;
I’ve only made this tribute taller because
I haven’t the talent to make it any better
