//Here’s a poem about Billy Collins. It’s for my Mom.//
Well, with a name like that
what do you expect but
A chubby kid with a cap gun
loaded with metaphors
rustling animal crackers on the sly
Or a cocktail—gin (two jiggers), soda,
superfine sugar, lemon (muddled), extra bitters—
swizzled, served on the rocks. No sipping.
Well, what do you expect
with a name like that, but poetry?