In the lunch hour alleys of the city, <br />We ate our Mexican food with the mild sauce, <br />Not wanting to raise the heat of our conversations; <br />Our plans were a rock concert at a small venue <br />Where the pretty but slightly plump girls scream <br />Drunken love to the lead singer, <br />And the tall man with the fresh tan <br />Hangs out in the back aisle scoping out the chicks; <br />And a few people begin to dance with missile-happy, <br />Excited legs spraying all over the place, <br />And I just want everyone to be joyful <br />Without punk rocking the scene with any consonantal violence, <br />And I always want to dig the waitress passing out the beers, <br />She tends to have cute, short black hair and some hip tattoo; <br />If I’m already sober, she will give me a free coffee <br />And I’ll sit in a dimly-lit back corner all lonely <br />And try to write a melancholy poem about her eyes; <br />If I’m slightly inebriated, she’ll smile and get an easy tip <br />And then tell me to behave myself; <br />Someone will bring pizza and get all-tomato stained <br />In the shuffle and flow of the night, <br />And then, when I go outside, I’ll have a fistful <br />Of quarters and dimes to give to the homeless guys <br />In some small way to pay back my debt to society <br />For letting me read Walt Whitman undisturbed on Sundays.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-thinking-about-walt-whitman/
