Byron, Keats and
Shelly were the
only ones
he thought worth
mentioning,
in the general scheme
of things,
the world being what
it was:
a pragmatic place
but not without a little
romance,
or the need for it.
And those
romantics were
trailblazers,
innovators,
the revolutionaries
of their times.
What can you say about the ones today,
he wanted to know.
Faggy college boys, or ugly misfits
drinking themselves
to death.
Byron looked like Elvis,
for Christ sake, he had charisma,
they all three did.
It was exciting to be in their
presence.
They were all cocksmen, lady
killers, society’s dissidents. The boys parents warned
their daughters about in the 1800’s.
They were dangerous
Where’s the charisma, the excitement, where is
the danger
with the modern bunch,
he wanted to know,
as he sat another bottle of beer in front of me.
I had to just smile and shrug, feeling a little uncomfortable
and wishing
I’d not mentioned
I wrote poems.