When I think of the word, poets,

I see a small group of people huddled around a tiny tinny coffee table

heads close together as they produce what is ultimately their life and death.

When I think of the word, poets,

I see a single bearded man standing

at a small stage in front of two person tables

with a crumbled piece of paper clutched in his ever aging world changing hands.

When I think of the word, poets,

I do not see a group of teenagers circled around one another in a clear classroom

with a box of cheep cookies

trading words and telling jokes.

When I think of the word, poets,

I don't see the boy with lingering loneliness, or

the girls with brightly dimmed eyes.

I see the Greats,

The Bukowskis, the Beats,

without realizing that one day

we may join them.