Charming Billy

Over the past week, while I've been getting jiggy with the romantic poetry, I've also been reading some books of poetry, including the ex-U.S.-poet laureate Billy Collins.  One of his latest collections, Ballistics, is a smart, snappy, bundle about every-day insights and observations.  Collins writes about most anything--a cemetery, an apple, a hippopotamus--and manages to create a poem that, at first blush, would inspire most anyone to try his or her hand at poetry.

Collins is one of the most accessible poets anyone could read, and he has a sense of humor about life, which I appreciate.  Even when he's writing about death, he's smiling through the words.  Nice touch, Billy boy!

I think I have read all but Collins's most recent collection, and it's always a pleasure to find him in magazines.  That, and old Billy should be an inspiration to men everywhere.  When Billy goes to the barber, he just sits down in the chair and says "shave me."  Billy spends little money on hair gels or trims.  I like that about Billy.  He's got guts.  

I've never met Billy, but I'm sure we would be friends if I ran into him at Starbucks.  I'd buy him a latte and we'd reminisce, and then he'd quickly whip out a poem on a napkin.  Probably something about curdled cream, or the fresh aroma of Verona blend, or how you meet the weirdest people at Starbucks.